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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25241287">Ascension</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofhearts61/pseuds/aceofhearts61'>aceofhearts61</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anti-Lesbian Violence, Arguments, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bisexual!Hannibal, Blood and Violence, Boats and Ships, Cannibalism, Cemetery, Churches &amp; Cathedrals, Complicated Relationships, Conversations, Corpse Desecration, Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, Crying, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dancing, Doctor!Hannibal, Dogs, Domestic, Dreams, Dry Humping, Emotional Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional!hannibal, Fights, Flowers, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frottage, Gay/Lesbian Friendship, Gray!Asexual Will, Hand Jobs, Hannibal Lecter in Love, Healing, Homophobia, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Jealousy, Killing, Kissing, Lesbian Character, Love, M/M, Makeup Sex, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Massage, Misunderstandings, Murder, Murder Husbands, Murder Kink, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character(s), Poetry, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Psychiatrist!Hannibal, References To Pedophilia, References to sex trafficking, Regret, Relationship Negotiation, Relationship Study, Secrets, Sensuality, Sexual Identity, Shifting Identity, Tango, Touching, Transformation, Unusual Sexual Dynamics, Vigilantism, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will is gay for Hannibal, complicated feelings, death scare, female oc - Freeform, jealous!Hannibal, jealous!Will, lesbian couple, mention of Mischa Lecter, sexual negotiation, terrorist attack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:08:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25241287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofhearts61/pseuds/aceofhearts61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After surviving the fall, Will and Hannibal's relationship is reborn as they try to make a life together south of the equator. Figuring out how to move forward as partners in murder is easy. Navigating the physical and emotional transformation of their love for each other is a little bit more complex.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham &amp; Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>294</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just finished watching the series for the first time and holy fuck. I love these two so much. I can't stop thinking about them. The whole show is a masterpiece. </p><p>Had to make my contribution to post-show imaginings of Will and Hannibal's new life. </p><p>Reviews make me smile.</p><p> </p><p>**My personal theme song for Will and Hannibal will always be Black Lab's "In a Moment." Check it out on Spotify.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The first time Will opens his eyes for more than a few seconds, everything is white, and he thinks he must be dead. He’s not in pain, and that makes him surer of his death. He’s lying in a bed with white sheets and a white blanket, and the sunlight streaming in through the open doors to his left bleaches the room. He can hear water, he realizes—the tide rolling up on the shore somewhere outside. White curtains flutter and float in the breeze, framing the open double doors. If this is the afterlife, it’s not what he would’ve guessed.</p><p>He looks down at himself and sees he isn’t wearing a shirt. There are stitches in his shoulder where the Red Dragon stabbed him, black and ugly against his otherwise perfect skin. He lifts his hand to his face, hesitating before touching his right cheek gingerly. He finds stitches there too, the wound site only a little tender.</p><p>He’s not an authority on death and life after it, but he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t needs stitches if he doesn’t actually have a body.</p><p>Something moves in his peripheral vision, and he looks toward the interior doorway. A woman stands there now. He looks at her for a long moment, before remembering who she is. Chiyoh.</p><p>“You are awake,” she says, lingering in the doorway for a minute longer. “Good.”</p><p>She comes into the room and sits down on the bed next to him, taking his wrist in her fingers and checking his pulse.</p><p>He looks at her as if she’s an apparition, a hallucination that he doesn’t understand yet. Her touch feels real enough, but her presence here doesn’t make any sense.</p><p>“Am I dead?” he says.</p><p>She glances at him with a smug smile. “You were not so lucky,” she replies.</p><p>“The last thing I remember is…. Falling off the bluff. Hitting the water. With—” He swallows as his voice catches in his throat. “With Hannibal.”</p><p>“That was a week ago,” she says, letting go of his wrist and looking at him. “I have kept you sedated until this morning. You were in bad shape when I found you, though not as bad as him.”</p><p>Will still can’t fully grasp that he’s alive, but he still asks the question with dread in his gut. “Is he… is he dead?”</p><p>“No,” she says, watching Will’s face.</p><p>A flood of relief bursts through his belly and travels through his whole body, followed by a bitter feeling that is at once righteous and unforgivable to him.</p><p>“Are you disappointed?” Chiyoh says.</p><p>He meets her gaze and says, “No.”</p><p>“Are you glad?”</p><p>He hesitates. “Yes,” he says, quietly.</p><p>Chiyoh stands up and faces Will, the sight of her in a colorful silk robe strange to him. “He has asked about you whenever he was conscious,” she says. “You could see him later, perhaps, if you want.”</p><p>Will doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just looks at her.</p><p>“I’ll bring you something to eat,” she tells him. “We’ll see if you can handle it.”</p><p>She turns away from him and heads for the door.</p><p>“Chiyoh,” Will says.</p><p>She stops and looks back at him.</p><p>“Where are we?”</p><p>“Cuba,” she says. “This is one of Hannibal’s safe houses.”</p><p>She disappears from the room, and Will wonders for a minute or two if their interaction was a dream.</p><p>He lies there on his back, staring at the wood of the ceiling, trying to process that he and Hannibal survived that fall off the bluff. Will had meant to die. He had meant for the both of them to die. Whatever they did, live or die, they had to do together. He knew that as soon as the Red Dragon hit the ground. As much as Will wanted Hannibal dead that night, as much as he had wanted to survive when the two of them were on their way to the house, once they killed Dolarhyde together, Will knew they couldn’t be on opposite sides of the veil.</p><p>If he’s alive, then he’s glad Hannibal is too. How long he wants them to live is another matter.</p>
<hr/><p>Will doesn’t visit the master suite until he’s feeling strong enough to walk there unassisted, three days later. Chiyoh hovers behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbles, but Will uses one wall for support and makes it down the hall without faltering.</p><p>Hannibal’s lying in the middle of the bed with his eyes closed when Will arrives. As soon as Will reaches the bedside, Hannibal opens his eyes, looks at him, and smiles softly.</p><p>Will doesn’t smile back, a storm of emotions churning through him.</p><p>“You did an excellent job stitching his face, Chiyoh,” Hannibal says, sliding his eyes over to the woman. “I can already tell the scar will not be too prominent. My compliments.”</p><p>She nods, standing at the foot of the bed. “I learned from you,” she says.</p><p>Will sits down, hating how much of a relief it is, and looks at Hannibal.</p><p>Chiyoh leaves the room without another word and shuts the door behind her, giving them privacy.</p><p>Only once she’s gone does Will lay his hand on Hannibal’s arm. Hannibal looks at him with a serene, pleasant expression that Will has never seen him wear before. He looks uncharacteristically weak, and it disturbs Will more than he could’ve anticipated. Will could suffocate him to death right now if he wanted, probably. But he doesn’t want that. The lack of murderous impulse sends him reeling.</p><p>“You set us free,” Hannibal says to him. “Clever boy.”</p><p>“I thought I was killing us both,” says Will.</p><p>“I would not have minded if you had. But the only other possible outcome was escaping the authorities. So either way, it was an excellent choice.”</p><p>Will breaks into an open-mouthed grin, his hand still heavy on Hannibal’s arm. “Did you call Chiyoh there? To have her on standby?”</p><p>“Of course,” says Hannibal. “She had been in the United States for some time before the Dragon reared his head. I knew how our encounter with him might go; I thought it prudent to call for backup.”</p><p>Will shakes his head. “You’re always one step ahead, aren’t you?” he says.</p><p>“I do my best.”</p><p>Will takes his hand from Hannibal’s arm and looks away, overwhelmed by the wave of emotion cresting in his chest. “Now what?” he says.</p><p>“I could ask you the same question,” says Hannibal. “You did not plan to survive. Now you must decide what you will do, given that you did. Will you go back to your old life?”</p><p>Will has been thinking about that since he woke up three days ago. Hannibal doesn’t sound any more invested in Will’s answer to the question than he does in anything else, but Will knows him well enough to know how desperate the other man is for a specific answer.</p><p>Will looks at Hannibal again, afraid and resentful and sure. “I’m not the same man I was before we killed the Dragon,” he says, slow and even. “I may be alive, but I feel dead. Who I was is gone. I can’t—I can’t go back to Maine and pretend that none of this ever happened. That you aren’t out there somewhere, doing what you do.”</p><p>Hannibal’s expression is unreadable. He blinks and says, “Are you saying you want to stay together? You and I.”</p><p>Ever since Bedelia du Maurier confirmed to Will that Hannibal is in love with him, Will has tried to compartmentalize that knowledge, so as not to let it throw him off balance. Distract him from what his moral duty required him to feel and to want for the serial killer. But as much as he pretended in between that session with Bedelia and his and Hannibal’s arrival at Hannibal’s house on the Maryland coast, it was the fact of Hannibal’s love for him that had Will reaching for his gun once Dolarhyde moved to kill Hannibal.</p><p>Will’s eyes fill with tears, locked with Hannibal Lecter’s. “I hate you,” he says. “But I think I love you more. And now I’ve become like you. A killer who enjoys killing. How am I supposed to have a life apart from you now? Every time I’ve tried since we met, I’ve failed. And that was before—” His voice breaks, and he looks away, a tear rolling down his uncut cheek.</p><p>“Before what, Will?” says Hannibal.</p><p>Will looks back at him. “Before I gave in to my dark desire.”</p><p>If Hannibal is self-satisfied or gleeful, he doesn’t show it. He reaches for Will without raising his back up off the bed, and Will moves his hand to make it easier for Hannibal to slip his into it.</p><p>“I won’t try to keep you if you don’t want to stay,” he says, and somehow Will knows that it’s the truth. For once in their relationship, Hannibal isn’t trying to manipulate him into staying. Maybe because he knows he no longer has to do so.</p><p>Hannibal’s hand is warm and alive in Will’s own, and Will sniffs as tears stream down his face. He remembers the way he felt when he sailed to Italy three years ago to find Hannibal again. Remembers the way it felt to sit with him before the <em>Primavera</em>, after looking for him to no avail over the course of several days. He remembers missing Hannibal, remembers how he wanted to run away with him even while he schemed against him with the FBI.  </p><p>“I’m done fighting whatever this is between us,” Will says.</p><p>He lingers on the bed for a few moments, taking in the expression on Hannibal’s face, then gets up and takes his hand out of the other man’s.</p><p>“I need time to process this whole situation,” he says.</p><p>“Of course,” Hannibal replies. “Take all the time you need.”</p>
<hr/><p>Another two weeks pass before they leave the house, which Will comes to discover is a secluded beachside property on La Isla de Juventud, the second largest island in the Cuban archipelago. Of course, Hannibal wouldn’t place himself on the main island, where American tourists and government officials are far more likely to set foot. Not that they have to worry about the Cuban government giving them up even if they do get caught here—unless Hannibal gives the country a reason to be rid of him.</p><p>Chiyoh drives the two men into the nearest town for a doctor’s visit. Hannibal’s got a 1969 Aston Martin DB6 convertible in pristine condition, the car’s exterior a cheerful cream color and the interior blood red leather. Will sits in the cramped backseat, and Hannibal sits in the front passenger seat. They ride with the top down. The three of them don’t talk, letting the sound of the breeze whipping around them and through their hair fill their silence.  </p><p>Apparently, this doctor who works at a local clinic paid them house calls while Will was sedated during their first week in Cuba. He’s overly warm and friendly, the kind of man impossible to dislike, and he immediately puts Will at ease. He removes Chiyoh’s stitches from both Will’s shoulder and face, then gives Will a mirror to look at the bright pink scars.</p><p>“They’ll fade with time,” the doctor reassures. “Apply this ointment every day until you finish the tube and don’t spend too much time in the sun the next thirty days, at least.”</p><p>“<em>Gracias</em>,” Will says, taking the tube of ointment with a nod. The scar on his face is pretty gnarly, given its location, but it could be a lot worse. He’s not about to get vain.  </p><p>Will hovers nearby as the doctor examines Hannibal, visibly nervous as much as Chiyoh is calm where she leans against the wall by the door. This is the first time Will has seen Hannibal undressed above the waist since the fall, the first time he’s gotten a look at the site of the gunshot wound. He only realizes now that there’s no way Chiyoh could’ve tended a wound that serious by herself. The bullet exited Hannibal’s body, but it passed through key organs that would’ve needed surgery.</p><p>“La senorita tells me you’ve been an excellent patient,” the doctor says to Hannibal, carefully examining both the entry and exit wound sites. Hannibal’s right side is still inflamed and bruised, but the wounds themselves are relatively small, the entry wound in the back obviously smaller than the exit wound in the front. They look clean.  </p><p>“I’ve done exactly as you instructed, with Chiyoh’s help,” says Hannibal. “And I’ve suffered no complications.”</p><p>“That’s what I like to hear. These look good. I’ll remove the stitches now, and you’ll come back in a week.”</p><p>Will stands at the foot of the gurney as the doctor removes Hannibal’s stitches, Hannibal lying on his left side in perfect silence.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Will says to the doctor. “But could you explain to me what was done?”</p><p>The doctor doesn’t pause or look up from his work on Hannibal’s exit wound. “<em>Claro que si,”</em> he says. “These wounds were already sewn shut when la senorita brought him here. She did it herself to stop the bleeding, which saved his life, but her stitching needed to be undone and surgery performed. The only organ damage was to the liver, but the risk of infection and other complications was elevated because he did not receive immediate medical care. He didn’t look good when he first arrived. He is very lucky to have made such an excellent recovery.”</p><p>The doctor looks up at Will and smiles.</p><p>Will tries to smile back, but he feels a little sick, his legs weak underneath him. If Chiyoh hadn’t been there to fish him and Hannibal out of the frigid sea, Will might’ve lived anyway—but Hannibal certainly wouldn’t have.  </p><p>Chiyoh remains against the wall by the door to the exam room, her arms crossed against her chest.</p><p>Hannibal peers over his shoulder at her as he sits up, smiling. “I am forever in your debt, Chiyoh,” he says.</p><p>“A debt I will collect on,” she replies.</p><p>“Is he in the clear now?” Will says to the doctor. “I mean, is there any chance that something else could go seriously wrong?”</p><p>“He has taken his antibiotics for the last three weeks, and he shows no sign of infection or new internal bleeding,” says the doctor. “I think the danger is passed. Now, he must wait for his body to finish healing.”</p><p>“When can I drink wine again?” Hannibal says to the doctor. “That’s the question.”</p><p>The doctor chuckles. “Not yet, Senor Sarto. Not until I tell you.” He hands Hannibal his t-shirt back. “You need more medication for the pain?”</p><p>Hannibal shakes his head. “I have not finished the script you wrote. The pain is bearable.”</p><p>“If you change your mind, call the clinic and leave a message for me. I’ll send a new prescription to the pharmacy, no problem.”</p><p>“Thank you. I appreciate it.”</p><p>The doctor nods and smiles, looking from Hannibal to Will. “Take care of yourselves,” he says and leaves the room, bidding farewell to Chiyoh as he passes her.</p><p>Hannibal begins to put his t-shirt back on, but he moves slowly and carefully, as if he’s afraid to jostle his newly unstitched scars.</p><p>Will goes to him and helps him put his right arm through the sleeve, neither one of them speaking a word. Will doesn’t look at Hannibal, though he can feel the man looking at him. He smoothes the t-shirt over the raised skin of the exit wound in Hannibal’s abdomen and reaches around Hannibal’s waist to brush over the entry wound site too, as if to reassure himself that they really are closed and well on their way to healing.</p><p>“Let’s go home,” he murmurs and turns on his heel to leave the room, trusting Chiyoh to help Hannibal get on his feet.  </p>
<hr/><p>The following morning, Hannibal makes his first attempt at cooking since their arrival in Cuba. Will stays in his room, avoiding him without really knowing why or what he needs to bring their estrangement to an end. Chiyoh brings him his breakfast without a word, and Will eats it on the deck outside, listening to the sea in order to avoid overhearing Hannibal and Chiyoh talking in the kitchen. He wonders how long she’ll stay. He wonders what he and Hannibal will do with each other once she’s gone. He wonders if he and Hannibal will ever be on good terms again.</p><p>He waits until a sufficient amount of time has passed before venturing out to the kitchen, which he finds empty. He searches the wine cooler, grateful that Hannibal is the kind of man who keeps a well-stocked bar in every residence he owns, and picks out a bottle of Spanish cava that’s probably too expensive for his self-pity.</p><p>An hour later, when he’s drunk and sitting on the beach with his bare feet in the cool sand, Hannibal finds him and sits down next to him. The empty bottle lies between them, and Hannibal picks it up, looking at the label.<br/>
<br/>
“A fine choice for a morning like this,” he says. “Ironic you would choose something bubbly, considering you’re not in a celebratory mood.”</p><p>Will doesn’t look at him and doesn’t answer, bloodshot eyes fixed on the sea. The water here is different than it was along the coast where they fell. The Atlantic that swallowed them and spit them out again was cold and dark and unforgiving. Here, the sea and the beach are the kind you see on postcards, in dreams.</p><p>“If you’re reconsidering your future plans,” Hannibal says. “It’s all right. I meant what I said. I won’t keep you with me if you don’t want to stay.”</p><p>Will closes his eyes, overcome by his own wretchedness. His old life is gone. His old self along with it. He can no longer deny who and what he really is or the longing for Hannibal he’s felt for most of the time they’ve known each other. But despite everything, a part of him still hates what he’s become. That part of him wants to be the morally upstanding, non-violent husband and step-father with a quiet, simple life in Maine.</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Will,” says Hannibal.</p><p>Will opens his eyes and resists the urge to sneer at the other man. He can sense that once again, Hannibal is being honest with him—and while the sentiment may be absurd, Will can’t fault him for being honest. </p><p>It’s in this moment that he acknowledges the other half of his misery: Hannibal’s right next to him, alive and well, and Will still feels the ache of loneliness that has haunted him all his life. The chasm between them that existed before they killed Dolarhyde is still there, and all Will wants to do is close it. But he doesn’t know how.</p><p>Will turns his head to look at Hannibal, finds the other man looking at him with a soft openness that’s almost startling.       </p><p>“It still feels like you’re somewhere far away, and I’m alone,” he says. “Like we’re still on opposite sides of that glass wall. And I don’t know what to do to eliminate the distance. You’re all I’ve got now. I’ve lost everyone else. Which I’m sure is exactly how you wanted it. But everything between us is so broken and fucked up, I don’t know if we’ll ever be happy. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life trying to kill you and having you trying to kill me. I’m tired, Hannibal. I’m tired of the sick game we play, but I’m tired of missing you too.”</p><p>Will looks away, eyes stinging and chest roiling with emotion. His lower lip trembles, and he bites it.</p><p>Hannibal is silent beside him for a long time. Then, he says, “How would you like things to be between us? If we could begin from this point in time as if everything that came before it does not belong to us. How would you have us move forward?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” says Will, almost whispering. “I told you I love you the other day. You didn’t respond to that. Let’s start there.”</p><p>“You want to know if I love you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” says Hannibal.</p><p>“You don’t try to murder someone you love,” Will says through gritted teeth.</p><p>“And yet you have done just that on multiple occasions. But I know you were being sincere when you said you loved me two weeks ago.”</p><p>Will decides not to try arguing that his own attempts at killing Hannibal were all retaliatory responses to the violence and chaos Hannibal wreaked in his life. He knows that he can’t claim self-defense. Only revenge. And if he’s honest with himself, that doesn’t make him much better or different than Hannibal.</p><p>“I need you to be straightforward with me,” Will says. “From now on. If we’re going to stick together, we have to cut the bullshit.”</p><p>Hannibal slides his hand across Will’s shoulders to rest on his left one, and it sends a shiver through Will’s body. Will looks over at him again, and Hannibal’s eyes are earnest.</p><p>“I do love you, Will,” Hannibal says. “I have for a long time.”</p><p>Will swallows, remembering the revelation in Bedelia du Maurier’s office and how it had felt so obvious to him the second he asked the question that he was dumbfounded he’d never seen it before. “Are you in love with me?” he says.</p><p>Hannibal hesitates. “Yes. I believe so.”</p><p>The admission feels like salt water washing out a wound: painful and healing all at once.</p><p>“I don’t even know what being in love with you would mean,” says Will, the weight of Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder and back grounding him in this moment. “But if I’m not already, I think I—I want to be.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles gently and moves his hand to caress Will’s cheek, brushing his curls away from his face and thumbing the red, raised skin of the Dragon’s scar.</p><p>“I think for us, being in love means seeing each other in our totality, understanding, and accepting,” Hannibal says. “Socially unacceptable impulses and all.”</p><p>“Haven’t we already done that?” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal’s smile deepens. “Yes.”</p><p>Will suddenly moves, reaches for Hannibal’s face with his left hand, and presses a kiss to the other man’s lips. It’s warm and soft, and he holds it for a long beat, eyes closing and fluttering open only when he starts to pull back. He finds Hannibal’s eyes closed, then opening slowly to meet his gaze. For the rest of his life, Will will remember the sound of the tide and the smell of salt water in this moment.  </p><p>“Feels like we should’ve done that a long time ago,” he says, at a loss for what he feels.</p><p>Hannibal looks as peaceful as Will has ever seen him. “All things in perfect time,” he replies.</p><p>Will falls away from him and returns to his seated posture, feeling a little bit more sober now thanks to the adrenaline surge. “We’re going to kill again, aren’t we?”</p><p>“Eventually,” says Hannibal.</p><p>“Then we’ll have to do it on my terms.”</p><p>“I can accept that.”</p><p>They sit side by side on the beach until Will finally gets up and holds out his hand to pull Hannibal on his feet.</p>
<hr/><p>Days pass, the two men gradually regaining their strength and energy. They don’t look for word of themselves in the media, not wanting to know yet whether they’re officially dead in the United States or simply missing. They know Jack Crawford won’t consider them dead until he has corpses and DNA confirmation, but Jack also doesn’t have the power to use FBI resources to carry out his own personal manhunt. The American government is probably happy to let Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter be some other nation’s problem if they are alive. That’s what Hannibal reasons out loud one night over dinner, what Will was thinking silently.</p><p>After their first kiss on the beach, they don’t share any more physical affection for a while, stealing looks at each other instead and skirting around their openly declared feelings. If Hannibal has told Chiyoh what transpired between him and Will, she doesn’t let on. Will begins to sense that she still hasn’t entirely decided to trust him with Hannibal’s life—which is funny to him, considering the scale of attempted murders between them is heavily weighed in Hannibal’s favor.</p><p>Will wanders the house and the property, familiarizing himself with it while knowing there’s a good chance they’ll leave Cuba once Hannibal’s ready to do so. He takes a long walk on the beach behind the house every day, usually alone. One day, he wades into the water, worried the sea has become a trigger for him since the fall, but he doesn’t feel anything except his own evaporating anticipation of fear.</p><p>He rides along with Hannibal in the Aston Martin on trips to the market in town, feeling totally anonymous in crowds of locals who don’t pay him a second look despite his obvious foreignness. He stops to pet every dog that approaches him, most of them unleashed and without collars, possible strays that have free reign of the streets.</p><p>He and Hannibal and Chiyoh eat every meal together now, when she’s home. What she gets up to when she’s out is beyond Will’s imagination. Hannibal carries their conversations at the table, being the best at it among the three of them.</p><p>Slowly, like a block of ice thawing, Will’s new life begins to feel less strange and surreal, his relationship with Hannibal a little less stiff and awkward. He still has no idea what their future holds and doesn’t want to think about it too much. He grieves for his old life, for Molly and Wally, for the home he’d helped create and now will never see again. But he resolves not to get stuck in his sense of loss, in regret and fantasies of what might’ve been had he never met Hannibal.</p><p>What he does think about more nights than not, when he’s lying in bed trying to fall asleep, is Hannibal in love with him. Bedelia du Maurier did not ask Will if he was in love with Hannibal. She asked him if he ached for the other man, a choice of words that was deliberate on her part. He never answered her, because the answer had been yes. The answer had always been yes, ever since Hannibal left him bleeding out in Hannibal’s kitchen that stormy night in Baltimore.</p><p>Was aching for Hannibal the same thing as being in love with him? Did Will really know himself and his own feelings so little that he had been in love with the man the last four years without realizing it?   </p><p>“Did you have sex with Bedelia?” Will asks Hannibal one evening. They’re sitting outside on the master suite porch after dinner, nursing glasses of wine and looking at the dark night over the sea.</p><p>Hannibal gives Will an amused look, which irritates Will to no end.</p><p>“You’ve been waiting over three years to ask me that,” says Hannibal. “You’ve wanted to ask since we reunited in Florence.”</p><p>“I never got the chance,” Will says with a bite to his voice. “Thanks to you and Mason Verger.”</p><p>Hannibal looks down into his wine glass and chuckles as he takes a drink.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Will demands.</p><p>“Your jealousy,” says Hannibal. “Even then, when you could not bring yourself to acknowledge the nature of our mutual attachment or your own desire to follow me, you were unreasonably jealous over Bedelia. And she envied you in turn, I might add.”</p><p>“Answer the question.”</p><p>Hannibal glances at Will again, then settles his gaze on the water. “Yes,” he said. “We had sex several times in Italy. An authentic husband and wife act.”</p><p>Will can’t justify or explain to himself why the confession makes his gut twist and his face burn with anger.</p><p>“Did you enjoy it?” Will says, his jaw tight.</p><p>“Did you enjoy having sex with your wife?” Hannibal counters, not looking at him.</p><p>That takes the air out of Will’s sails a bit. He feels a pang of guilt, maybe even melancholy, remembering the nights he and Molly shared. The two of them were naked in each other’s arms just a few months ago, but those memories already feel as if they belong to another lifetime, another man.</p><p>“I had sex with Bedelia because I knew it would make her more cooperative,” says Hannibal, not waiting for Will’s answer. “Easier to control. Certainly, it made her more compassionate toward me, less willing to abide by her own moral standard. Sex often clouds a person’s judgment, their perspective of whoever she engages in the act with.”</p><p>Will looks at him, then away. The question of sex has been lingering in the back of his mind ever since he kissed Hannibal, making him anxious and even avoidant of the other man despite his desire to be closer.  </p><p>“I was never in love with Bedelia, Will,” says Hannibal. “She was a friend and a respected colleague. A helpful source of objectivity as my psychiatrist. But she did not understand me as you do. Nor could I fully relate to her.”</p><p>Hannibal finishes off his wine and sets the empty glass on the edge of his chair’s arm rest.</p><p>“I think I—loved Molly, in my own way,” Will says, unsure if he should tell Hannibal this. “I certainly cared about her. A lot. She was a good wife. She made me feel safe.”</p><p>“And yet, you choose not to go back to her,” says Hannibal, turning his head to look at Will.</p><p>Will dares to make eye contact with him. “She’s safer without me,” he says. “So is her son.”</p><p>“Is that the only reason you’ll allow them to mourn your death?”</p><p>Will swallows, knowing Hannibal already knows it isn’t. He focuses on the sea once more, the water a perfect reflection of the starry sky, blackness running into blackness.</p><p>“She didn’t make me feel the way you do,” Will says. “And if I’m going to be a killer now, the innocent people of the world will be better off if I hunt with you rather than alone.”</p><p>Hannibal contemplates that, then reaches for the open wine bottle on the table between them and pours himself another glass. “How do I make you feel, Will?” he says.</p><p>Will sucks in a breath, feels his heart flutter in his chest. He closes his eyes just long enough to return to the moment when he and Hannibal looked at each other right before they killed the Red Dragon. How they moved together in perfect harmony, two predators bringing down their prey.</p><p>He opens his eyes again and says, “You make me feel alive. Like I could die at any moment.”</p><p>Hannibal grins. “The two have always been one in the same. Most people would sacrifice the exhilaration of true liveliness to avoid the imminence of death. That you want to embrace both is proof we are cut from the same cloth, as they say.”</p><p>“It’s intoxicating,” Will says. “Addictive. Maybe that’s one reason why I resisted it for so long.”</p><p>“No,” says Hannibal. “It’s the reason you finally gave in.”</p><p>They look at each other in the soft glow of the candle burning on the table between them and the light coming from inside the bedroom behind them.   </p><p>“I resent that Bedelia du Maurier shared something with you that I never have,” Will tells Hannibal, almost amazed at himself for confessing it aloud.</p><p>Hannibal searches Will’s face with an expression Will can’t read.</p><p>“Are you saying you want us to have sex?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“I don’t know,” says Will. “I’ve never been with a man. I’ve never been attracted to men like that. I’m not even sure I’m attracted to you like that, enough to actually go all the way through with it. But I hate that you did it with her. I hated it when you were screwing Alana, even though I couldn’t admit to myself I envied her and not you.”</p><p>Hannibal smirks and sips on his wine. “Will,” he says. “As charming as I find your possessiveness, you never had any reason to feel envious or jealous of these women. You have always been the one person I wanted most, since we met. Sex is petty compared to what you and I have shared. We have already been more intimate with each other than I have ever been with a sexual partner. That said—should you decide you want to explore sex with me, I would not be opposed. I could never deny you anything you asked for. But if your only motive is competing with Bedelia and Alana, I believe it would be unwise for us to proceed in that direction.”</p><p>Will needs a minute to absorb Hannibal’s words, the fact that the sexual invitation has been made, the statement that Hannibal already feels more intimate with Will than if they’d had sex. He understands what Hannibal means: killing the Red Dragon with him was the most intimate experience of Will’s life so far. He’s never felt as connected to someone as he did to Hannibal that night. The sex he’s had doesn’t begin to compare.   </p><p>“I liked kissing you,” Will says.</p><p>Hannibal smiles at him. “I enjoyed it as well. But kissing does not have to escalate to sexual intercourse, unless it is the genuine desire of both parties.”</p><p>Will swallows, suddenly nervous. “Do you want to have sex with me? Have you wanted to this whole time?”</p><p>“No,” says Hannibal. “I wanted to kill with you. And I wanted to be close to you. I wanted your companionship most of all. Without any barriers between us.”</p><p>That puts Will more at ease. Somehow, the idea of Hannibal wanting to kill him and eat him is more comfortable for Will to accept than the idea Hannibal had wanted to fuck him all along, unbeknownst to Will.</p><p>“So you don’t need to have sex with me to be satisfied,” he says. “But if I wanted to do it, you would indulge me.”</p><p>“Precisely,” Hannibal replies. “You’re the conductor of the physical intimacy in our relationship, Will.”</p><p>Will is left speechless: a voluntary surrender of control by Hannibal Lecter is an act Will never thought he’d witness. Never mind a surrender to Will himself.</p><p>Will sets his empty wine glass on the table and stands up. He holds his hand out to Hannibal, who looks at it and then up at Will.</p><p>“It’s late,” Will says. “Let’s go to bed.”</p><p>“You’ll have to clarify what you mean, given the conversation we just had,” says Hannibal. </p><p>“I don’t want to have sex. But I’d like to try sleeping next to you. If you don’t mind.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles gently. “I don’t mind.”</p><p>He takes Will’s hand, and Will pulls him out of the chair and leads him back into the master bedroom.</p>
<hr/><p>Will dreams, but the images slip away from him as soon as he begins to wake. Someone’s touching his back, rubbing it lazily. Will cracks his eyes open and hears the ocean beyond the open patio doors. He’s lying on his side, facing them. He remembers, after a minute, that he’s in Hannibal’s bed instead of his own.  </p><p>“Will,” comes Hannibal’s quiet voice behind him. “Are you awake?”</p><p>Will hums, enjoying the sensation of Hannibal stroking his back. “That feels good,” he says, wanting to drift to sleep again.</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t respond and doesn’t stop. He starts to scrape his fingertips against Will’s back, and that’s even more pleasurable.</p><p>“Did you sleep well?” he says.</p><p>“I did,” says Will, his eyes closed again. “Did you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Hannibal goes back to rubbing Will’s back with a flat palm.</p><p>“What time is it?” says Will.</p><p>“After eight,” Hannibal replies.</p><p>“Don’t you usually get up earlier than this?”</p><p>“I do. But I was content to stay with you a while longer.”</p><p>Will smiles.</p>
<hr/><p>After nine weeks in Cuba, they sail into Buenos Aires on the boat Chiyoh used to take them to Cuba. Hannibal’s boat. She escorts them, needing to be sure of Hannibal’s safety, and when they say goodbye outside his home, Hannibal actually hugs her. Will offers her his hand to shake when she approaches him, and she takes it after pausing, gripping it instead of shaking. She looks him in the eyes, and says:<br/>
<br/>
“If you kill him, I will come for you.”</p><p>He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods.</p><p>Will and Hannibal watch her get into the back of a cab bound for the airport, the cab pulls away into the street, and for the first time since killing Dolarhyde, they’re alone.</p><p>Their new home is a large, luxury house in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires: two stories, oak wood and marble tile floors, a spiral staircase, a large fireplace in the living room, a giant stand-alone soaking tub in the master bathroom. The interior doors and windows are painted black, while the walls and ceilings are a soft white with elegant molding designs. The cabinets, countertops, tub, and shower tile in the master bath are black. The kitchen is smaller than the one Hannibal had in Baltimore, but it has a spacious, open design and looks as if he remodeled it as soon as he bought the house. The property feels like it belongs in a European city, and Hannibal informs him the architectural style is French. High walls enclose the yard, and the exterior of the house’s back wall is almost entirely covered in green, climbing plants.</p><p>“Do you like it?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“It’s nice,” says Will, returning to him in the middle of the great room downstairs. “But you didn’t finish it.”</p><p>Most of the house is empty, which tells Will that Hannibal must not have bought the place that long ago.</p><p>“I was thinking we could furnish and decorate it together,” says Hannibal with a smile. “This is not just my home but ours, for the foreseeable future.”</p><p>They spend the next few weeks shopping for sofas, armchairs, tables, bedroom sets, art pieces, rugs. They buy a television and towels and sheet sets and stock their medicine cabinet. Hannibal pays a visit to their local market and one of the many nearby bookstores every day, bringing home dinner ingredients and slowly filling the shelves in the bookcases they picked out. It’s a bizarre feeling, sharing this domesticity with Hannibal.</p><p>“What work would you like to take up?” Hannibal says to Will one morning over breakfast.</p><p>Will blinks at him. “I don’t know. I’ve only ever done two jobs, and neither one of them seems plausible now. What will you do?”</p><p>“Open a practice, of course.”</p><p>“Seriously? You’re going to go back to psychiatry?”</p><p>“I never really left it, you know.”</p><p>The idea of this cannibalistic serial killer treating other people’s psychological troubles is completely absurd now. But Will must admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that Hannibal was always been very good at his job when he wasn’t using it to manipulate his patients.</p><p>“I will, of course, charge exorbitant rates,” says Hannibal, sipping at his coffee and setting the mug down on the table again. “Which will narrow my clientele to the city’s elite. This will help us identify our targets.”</p><p>“We haven’t discussed that yet,” Will replies. “I told you if we’re going to keep up the murders, we’ll have to do it on my terms.”</p><p>“And I agreed. So let’s hear your terms.”</p><p>Will takes a breath, a part of him still unable to believe he’s actually going to proceed down this path. But even if he hadn’t enjoyed killing Dolarhyde as much as he did, he wouldn’t have a choice but to take up the work. It’s the only way to stay with Hannibal.</p><p>“I’m only interested in killing those who are truly evil and corrupt,” he says. “I won’t be joining you when you decide to harvest our next meal from a store clerk who was rude to you.”</p><p>“Nor would I expect you to,” says Hannibal. “There has always been a moralistic component to your violent impulses and the pleasure you take in killing. I admire that about you, Will. It’s very Biblical of you.”</p><p>Will drinks some of his orange juice and pretends the compliment doesn’t delight him. “I won’t kill a woman unless she has done something truly heinous and unforgivable,” he continues.</p><p>“Understandable.”</p><p>“I think you need to reign in the theatricality of your murders. You start putting bodies on display the way the Ripper did, and we’ll have to leave Argentina sooner rather than later. We should make our victims disappear.”  </p><p>“I will not tell you what to do with your own,” says Hannibal. “And I do think for now, you’re right about keeping a low profile. But I’m not sure I want to dispose of every single person I kill. Disposal is more difficult than you might imagine. It’s easier to leave the bodies for the police at least some of the time. The key is to leave a clean body, without any identifiable style.”</p><p>“There is always some risk of capture when you leave the body behind,” Will says. “No matter how small.” He pauses, the pale morning light filtering through the window at his right shoulder and casting a halo around his curls. “We should have a studio. Somewhere we can bring our targets, on enough land we could think about burying them there.”</p><p>Hannibal grins. “I’ll start looking straight away.”</p><p>“Hannibal,” Will says, looking at him pointedly. “I think you should keep your solo hunts to a minimum.”</p><p>“Don’t want to be left out now?”</p><p>“It’s safer if we work together. Not to mention, I’d like to keep your list of undeserving victims here as short as possible.”</p><p>Hannibal arches an eyebrow. “I have never killed anyone undeserving in my life, Will.”</p><p>Will shoots him a dark, impatient look. “We obviously have different criteria.”</p><p>Hannibal closes and folds up the newspaper he was perusing and sets it down on the table. “I promise you I will do my best to only kill the rude after acquiring your approval. But I cannot promise you I will never go off and hunt alone again. I hope you understand.”</p><p>Will nods. “I understand.”</p><p>Hannibal gets up from the table and takes his plate and utensils to the sink, rinsing them off and putting them in the dishwasher. “By the way,” he says. “I ordered my harpsichord. It should be arriving within the next few weeks.”</p><p>He flashes a smirk at Will, before leaving the kitchen.</p><p>Great, Will thinks. His very own Gothic soundtrack, performed live from the living room.</p>
<hr/><p>He dreams of the night Hannibal gutted him in Baltimore, sees the look of absolute devastation on Hannibal’s face, feels his own immediate regret for betraying the other man. The wave of emotion that crashed through him when he realized Hannibal had planned a future for them all along. The crushing loss of the life they might’ve had, ripped away from the both of them. <em>Please let me take it back</em>, Will had thought once he stood in Hannibal’s kitchen. <em>Let me take it back</em>. He had doubted Hannibal Lecter had a heart that could break until that night; he had to break it himself to know that he’d been wrong.</p><p>Will wakes up, and there are tears running out of his eyes and into his hair. He shudders through a breath, reorienting himself in the present. The master bedroom, the house in Buenos Aires.    </p><p>He’s lying on his back and turns his head to find Hannibal looking at him through half-lidded eyes.</p><p>“You were dreaming,” Hannibal says, his voice sleep-thick. He reaches out and brushes a tear off Will’s face with his thumb.</p><p>Will rolls toward him and pulls them together, wrapping his arm around Hannibal and pressing his face into the other man’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.</p><p>Hannibal cups his hand over the back of Will’s head and hooks his arm around Will’s back. “I forgive you,” he whispers back.</p><p>Will clutches him, trying to chase away the memory-dream with the smell and solidity of Hannibal here now. How different their story could’ve gone, had Will just surrendered to his own love and desires sooner. How much pain they both could’ve been spared. The past lingers between them, unchanged no matter how much Will regrets what he did that seemed perfectly righteous at the time.</p><p>“Leave it behind, Will,” Hannibal says to him, still holding the younger man’s head to his heart. “Let us make a present and future that eclipse the past.”</p><p>Will is only a little mollified at the comforting touch and words. He relived that traumatic night so many times in the months that followed, in the years he tried to move on while Hannibal was institutionalized. But the sting of it hurts now in a way it didn’t before.</p><p>Hannibal digs his fingers into Will’s curls and rubs at his scalp.</p><p>Will shifts, propping himself up just enough to look down at Hannibal’s face. Hannibal’s arms are still around him, and he caresses Hannibal’s cheek the way Hannibal has done to him on so many occasions. They look into each other’s eyes, Will’s still watery.</p><p>“I love you,” Will says. “Even when I didn’t want to, I loved you.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles gently.</p><p>“There has always been a part of me that wanted to end up here,” says Will. “Always. I need you to know that.”</p><p>“I know, beautiful boy,” says Hannibal, looking at him with unguarded adoration.</p><p>Will rests his brow against Hannibal’s, still holding onto his face, their noses brushing. Then, he kisses him for the first time since their moment on the beach several weeks ago. He holds the kiss, until Hannibal rolls him onto his back and looks down at him with eyes shining, his face glowing with triumph. He leans down to kiss Will, the first time he’s initiated the gesture, and Will feels warmth flood his body. He flings his arm around Hannibal’s back and holds Hannibal’s head with his other hand.</p><p>Hannibal breaks away, then kisses him again. And again. Smiling into Will’s lips. When he finally stops and lowers his head onto Will’s shoulder, covering the other man’s body with his own, shoving his arms underneath it, Will just holds onto him right back and rests his head against Hannibal’s. Staring at the ceiling, weeping again.</p>
<hr/><p>Their first few months in Argentina pass, the weather turning cold again in time for the northern hemisphere’s summer. Hannibal acquires a handful of patients at his new practice, and Will gets a job at an animal rescue and sanctuary. He and Hannibal agree it wouldn’t be wise for them to keep pets, so working at the rescue satiates Will’s need for contact with animals, dogs especially. It occurs to him that he isn’t utilizing his professional skills and intellect at this job, and the income gap between him and Hannibal is considerable. But Hannibal only seems to care that Will is content, so Will decides to make that his own metric by which to judge his paid work.  </p><p>They get used to their fake names and their fictional backstory: a gay couple who met in the United States several years ago and immigrated to South America in pursuit of a slower-paced life. It isn’t until a couple weeks after their arrival in Argentina that Will discovers Palermo, their neighborhood, is known as the most gay-friendly in the city. He wonders at Hannibal choosing to buy a house for them here long before he had any reason to believe he’d escape the asylum and reconcile with Will. The significance of the name <em>Palermo</em> is not lost on him either: Italy’s Palermo being the city where he first looked for Hannibal after the man fled the States, the Norman chapel the gateway to Hannibal’s memory palace.</p><p>Will has never thought of himself as a gay man—Hannibal is the only man he’s ever felt anything approaching romantic feelings—but he slips into the identity without any trouble. He sees plenty of gay and lesbian couples in their neighborhood, holding hands in the streets and on the metro, and it puts him at ease. He still doesn’t exactly think of himself and Hannibal as a gay couple, even though it’s clear to him now that they’re in love in whatever way they’re capable, but knowing that their neighbors accept them as such makes him feel more comfortable.</p><p>Hannibal takes Will to the theater and the opera, the symphony orchestra and the botanical garden, art museums and galleries, the finest restaurants in the city, and to the beach. He begins to install himself in Buenos Aires’ high society, bringing Will along with him to exclusive dinner parties and social events, introducing him as his husband. The first time Will catches him using the word in Spanish, his gut clenches and his pulse quickens. He’s polite, he smiles, he does his best to converse in Spanish despite how little he knows the language, and nobody gives him and Hannibal a dirty look or any indication that they disapprove of them as a married couple.  </p><p>It’s the morning after one of these social events that they lie awake in bed together, not touching except for Hannibal’s hand on Will’s belly. He runs it along the scar he gave Will, back and forth.</p><p>“Do you want to marry me?” Will says.</p><p>He turns his head to look at Hannibal, who looks back at him.</p><p>When Hannibal doesn’t answer, Will explains: “You introduce me as your husband.”</p><p>“It seems more appropriate, given our ages,” says Hannibal. “Certainly more respectable here.”</p><p>“That’s the only reason? Appearances?”</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal says. “I am not trying to manipulate you into marriage.”</p><p>“I’m not implying that you are. I’m just asking. If that’s something you want.”</p><p>Hannibal looks away from him, at the ceiling, his hand resting on Will’s belly. Will watches the side of his face. Hannibal takes his hand away. Will immediately rolls on top of Hannibal and puts Hannibal’s hand onto his back, the way he arranged Hannibal’s embrace of him on the bluff the night they fell. They look at each other.</p><p>“Marriage is psychologically a very significant change for most people,” Hannibal says. “I would not want to pressure you into such a symbolic change if you do not genuinely want it for purely selfish reasons.”</p><p>Will pets Hannibal’s hair, looking serious. “Do you want to marry me or not, Hannibal?”</p><p>“If that is what you wanted, of course, I would be delighted. But it must be what you want for yourself, not something you do to please me.”</p><p>They haven’t killed again yet, though they recently purchased a piece of rural land outside the city, complete with a barn. They’re both anticipating their next kill, their first kill as a committed pair, and Will knows that how he feels after that kill will either cement his commitment to Hannibal or rend them asunder. He’s not worried about it. He fully expects to become even more profoundly intertwined with the other man.</p><p>“I would never want you to marry anyone else but me,” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal smiles. “I would never dream of it,” he replies.</p><p>Will looks into his eyes and thinks about it. He thinks about Freddie Lounds calling him and Hannibal “murder husbands” in an article over three years ago and how it had made him feel back then.</p><p>“Marry me, Hannibal,” Will says. “I don’t want a wedding, I’m sure you don’t either, but—marry me.”</p><p>Hannibal reaches up and caresses Will’s hair, looking at him reverentially. “As you wish,” he says.</p>
<hr/><p>Fiorenzo Sarto and Michael Morgan file for a marriage license at the Buenos Aires city hall on a grey, blustery July day. Hannibal slides a plain gold band onto Will’s left ring finger, and Will slides a matching one onto Hannibal’s. Their eyes meet, and Will remembers the conversation he had with Bedelia du Maurier about Bluebeard’s wives. He and Hannibal don’t kiss each other then, with the clerk watching them.</p><p>Hannibal takes them to the Metropolitan Cathedral, and they sit side by side in the first pew, silently admiring the altar. It feels similar to their meeting in Florence before <em>La Primavera</em>, to sitting in Palermo’s Norman chapel alone when Will was looking for Hannibal. But it also feels entirely different, the two of them united now without any ulterior motive.</p><p>It is then that Hannibal turns to Will and kisses him, hand in Will’s hair as light as a touch from god, and Will moves into the kiss without caring what anyone else in the cathedral might be thinking, seeing them there. Not caring what god thinks of either of them or their relationship.</p><p>“I wrote vows,” Will whispers to Hannibal, their faces so close they can feel each other’s warm breath.</p><p>“Did you?” says Hannibal, looking utterly intoxicated.</p><p>Will nods. “I pledge my loyalty to you, Hannibal Lecter. I vow to love you and be faithful to you, to accept you unconditionally, to become my true self under your tutelage. When the time comes, I will kill you, as tenderly and mercifully as I can.”</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes glisten. He’s in a state of bliss only rivaled by the moments in which he takes a life. He cradles Will’s face in both of his hands and kisses him full on the mouth. “Will Graham,” he says. “I promise to love you as honorably as I can, as long as you’ll have me.” He kisses Will’s forehead, and it feels holy, like a blessing. “I promise to see you reach your full potential, to be as true to your nature as I am. I promise to accept you as you are. And should the need arise, I will kill you—with all my love.” He kisses Will’s lips again. “And all my respect.”</p><p>Will smiles at him, reaching his hands up into Hannibal’s hair and sliding them down to his shoulders. They look at each other intimately, before Will kisses Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal closes his eyes, sighing.</p><p>“My husband,” Will says, looking at Hannibal again.</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes brim with tears he doesn’t allow himself to shed.</p><p>“Thank you,” Will says, wrapping Hannibal in a hug. He can smell the other man’s expensive cologne and aftershave.</p><p>“It is I who must thank you,” says Hannibal, hugging him back.</p><p>The Holy Mother regards them indifferently from her place at the center of the altar.</p>
<hr/><p>Their first target in Argentina is a man by the name of Oscar Padilla. A member of the upper class, with plenty of international business ties. His wife comes to Hannibal for treatment, the kind of woman who favors Americans and Europeans over her fellow Argentinians. She confesses to Hannibal her strong suspicions of her husband’s sexual liaisons with underage girls, who he would have access to through the men in his social circle. She can’t confront him—fearing his wrath and the economic fallout of a divorce—but she decides to take some time away from the man with Hannibal’s encouragement, fleeing to the couple’s vacation home in Valparaiso, Chile. Hannibal would kill her too, for being so weak-willed and complicit in her husband’s crimes, but he decides not to propose it to Will until after Padilla has been dealt with.</p><p>Hannibal does his homework, to satisfy Will’s need for proof. He hires a private detective to tail Padilla once the wife is out of town. Over the course of a few weeks, the detective procures enough incriminating evidence to have Will convinced and seething. Young women, young girls, delivered to the couple’s home late at night; the man himself meeting with other prominent business men at other locations throughout the city and young females of questionable age sighted on the same premises.</p><p>Hannibal grows increasingly excited at Will’s rage and mounting bloodlust, Will can tell. Hannibal himself is eager—he might be a cannibal and a serial killer, but he has never committed a sex crime, which he finds abhorrent and vulgar beyond measure—and by the time their night arrives, he’s practically buzzing with anticipation.</p><p>They show up at Padilla’s home after midnight on a Thursday. They make sure he’s alone before ringing the doorbell.</p><p>Hannibal takes the lead, as this is Will’s first proper hunt. Will is an observant apprentice, making mental note of the way Hannibal weasels his way into the house without raising suspicion, the way he smoothly sneaks up on Padilla and chokes him into unconsciousness, the way he ties the man to a chair with Will’s assistance.</p><p>They brought their own knives, from a collection that Hannibal started for the exclusive purpose of murder. Blades pristine and sharpened with a whetstone.</p><p>Hannibal pulls up Padilla’s collection of homemade pornography from an external hard drive in the office and plays some of it for Will, the girls in the videos no more than fifteen or sixteen. Padilla is identifiable in the footage, engaged in various acts of coitus with the girls, some of whom are visibly crying and the rest looking drugged.  </p><p>Will punches Padilla in the face until the man’s bleeding from the nose and mouth, raw lesions on his face, his eyes bruised. Will’s wearing gloves that Hannibal picked out for him, and Hannibal watches him carry out the beating with a delicious sense of satisfaction.</p><p>Will backs off after several minutes, huffing and pink-faced, swiping all the objects off the nearby kitchen island like an enraged cat.</p><p>“My husband is very displeased with your extramarital activities, Senor Padilla,” Hannibal says to the man in a pleasant tone, kneeling before him with a friendly expression. “This does not bode well for you.”</p><p>“You sick fuck,” says Will, returning to them with one of his knives brandished. He presses the blade to Padilla’s throat, and Padilla’s eye bug out at him. “Who else is involved? Huh? Where are you getting the girls from?”</p><p>Will slaps him hard across the face and tears the gag down out of his mouth. “Answer me!” he shouts.</p><p>Padilla babbles in Spanish but doesn’t offer up any names, much to Will and Hannibal’s disappointment.</p><p>“We could perhaps identify whatever men appear in his video footage with the help of our private investigator,” Hannibal says, sitting in a chair across from Padilla, his own knife in hand.</p><p>Padilla’s crying now, blubbering his pleas for mercy. Will finds him all the more disgusting and contemptible for it, and so does Hannibal.</p><p>“I can’t wait anymore,” says Will, nostrils flaring and veins raised in his throat. “This motherfucker needs to die, Hannibal.”</p><p>“I agree with you completely, <em>marido mio</em>,” Hannibal replies. “Would you do the honors?”</p><p>Will moves to stand behind Padilla, who’s now almost shrieking in terror. Will grips him by the hair on the top of his head, looks right into Hannibal’s adoring eyes, and slits Padilla’s throat wide open from left to right. The blood sprays across the rug, some of it landing on Hannibal’s face, the arterial spurt staining his plastic murder suit over his right knee. Will closes his eyes, just for a second, sticks the knife straight down into Padilla’s shoulder just to free up his hand, then opens his eyes again and reaches down to touch the bloody wound in the man’s throat. Hannibal licks his lips, looking as aroused as Will has ever seen him, and Will feels a rush of power and bliss that he couldn’t describe if he tried. The hot blood spills over his hand, through his fingers, down Padilla’s chest. The man is gurgling, choking to death. He makes an obscene sucking sound, and Will presses his bloodied hand over the man’s mouth, silencing him until his body goes limp.</p><p>Hannibal stands up, beaming at him.</p><p>“Come over here and gut him,” Will says, his voice low and husky, almost a growl. He takes his knife out of Padilla’s shoulder. His body’s tingling, and he feels hot, the way he does when he has sex. He can feel his heart thrumming quick in his chest. He cuts the plastic zip tie binding Padilla’s wrists behind him, then the rope keeping him upright in the chair.</p><p>Hannibal catches the corpse as it falls forward and lays it down on the floor, facing up. He plants his feet on either side of the body and rips the man’s shirt open, exposing sweaty chest and fatty belly. </p><p>Will stands at the head of the corpse and watches as Hannibal stabs his knife into the top of the man’s chest and cuts a line straight down the middle, all the way to the waistband of his pants.</p><p>Hannibal sighs in satisfaction, dropping into a squat. “It has been too long, Will,” he says, watching as the blood rises and runs out of the man’s chest. “But this was worth the wait.”</p><p>“Take his pants down,” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal looks up at him, knowing exactly what Will intends to do and relishing it. He unbuttons the dead man’s pants, unzips the fly, and pulls them down to the thighs, along with the underwear.</p><p>Minutes later, the rug is soaked through with blood. There’s blood all over Will and Hannibal’s murder suits, and Hannibal has the dead man’s liver, small intestine, and a slab of muscle sealed in plastic bags and packed into a small portable ice box. Will is panting, straddling the corpse’s legs, and Hannibal pulls him up by the hand, their eyes meeting. Will could only describe the look on Hannibal’s face as loving.</p><p>Will leaves the severed penis and testicles in a jar, next to the man’s computer where one of the homemade pornos is still paused on the screen.</p><p>They pack the trunk of their car where it’s parked in the driveway, their plastic murder suits hosed down and the pink water pooling in the street. It’s chilly and quiet, the whole neighborhood dark and still. There is no sign of any other person anywhere in their vicinity.   </p><p>As soon as Hannibal shuts the trunk, Will pushes him back against it and kisses him, pressing his body into the other man’s. It’s the fiercest kiss they’ve shared thus far, with none of the sweet affection of their previous kisses. This one feels distinctly, dangerously erotic.  </p><p>Hannibal takes it in stride, like he does everything else. He gives Will an amused, playful look in the moonlight when the younger man breaks the kiss and checks on him. Hannibal takes Will’s elbows in his hands, barely gripping them, feeling the softness of Will’s sweater.</p><p>“Are we about to revisit the issue of sex in our relationship?” he says.</p><p>“I don’t know,” says Will, feeling Hannibal’s sides with his fingers. “What we just did in there was—intense and amazing. Now, I need to be close to you.” He swallows, trembling a little.</p><p>Hannibal, with the steadiness of the North Star, lifts both his hands to Will’s face, brushes them back over Will’s curls, and looks at him with tremendous affection. “Let’s go home,” he says. “We shouldn’t linger here.”      </p><p>They drive back to Palermo in silence.</p>
<hr/><p>Once they’re finally home and Padilla’s harvested organs are in Hannibal’s special freezer, Will has calmed down enough to think a little bit more clearly. He’s nervous and conflicted, even through the high he’s riding. Does he want to have sex with Hannibal now? Does he want something else? If he initiated sex and then changed his mind, would that ruin everything? In a way, it feels like he and Hannibal already had sex—back there in the Padilla estate, butchering that pig together. </p><p>Hannibal brings out a bottle of red wine and a pair of glasses, and for a split second, Will sees a flashback of the night they killed Dolarhyde. His stomach lurches, and he almost flinches as Hannibal comes over to offer him the glass of wine. Will takes it, trying to ground himself in the present. If Hannibal senses what’s going on with Will right now, he doesn’t mention it. He just sits down on the plush sofa facing the fireplace in the living room, sips on his wine, and looks at Will.</p><p>Will gulps down half his wine, standing before Hannibal as if he’s about to bolt from the room at any moment.</p><p>Hannibal puts his own glass down on the coffee table and sits back into the sofa again. “Come here, Will,” he says. “Sit in my lap."</p><p>Will sets his wine glass down and climbs into Hannibal’s lap, sitting between Hannibal’s legs and facing the other man. They look at each other in the dim light of the room, Will’s hands resting lightly on Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal presses his hands to the small of Will’s back, lacing his fingers together.</p><p>“What you experienced,” Hannibal says, in his psychiatrist voice. “What you are experiencing is the eros of taking a life, of true power. It is a sensation unlike anything else, and while it may not always feel as overwhelming to you as it does now, you will experience this erotic energy every time you hunt and bring down your target. Sharing this with me could easily lead you to confuse the eros of killing with sexual desire, and indeed, I feel it too, this energy between us. But it is the energy of the kill, not pure sexual desire.”</p><p>Will listens to him carefully, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s face.</p><p>“If you want to express what you’re feeling through sex,” Hannibal continues. “I would be happy to try that with you—but it is not necessary. And perhaps you would feel differently about it once the reality of the act replaces the experience of the kill.”</p><p>Will smiles that boyish smile Hannibal has always loved. “You have an unbelievable ability to intellectualize emotions and physical impulses,” he says. “Not to mention patience.”</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t reply, waiting for Will to continue.</p><p>“I do want to be physical with you right now,” says Will. “But I guess I don’t want to have actual penetrative sex. I might not ever want that…. I hope that’s okay.”</p><p>“Of course, it is,” says Hannibal, looking up at him with sincerity. “I told you that you are in control of the physical side of our relationship. I meant it.”</p><p>Will gives him a different smile now, a small one. “Thank you,” he says.</p><p>He leans down and kisses Hannibal on the cheek, then the lips. He wraps his arms around Hannibal’s neck, resting his chin on the top of Hannibal’s head, and Hannibal starts stroking his back with both hands. It’s soothing. Will holds Hannibal close and just enjoys the heat of Hannibal’s body against his. Hannibal slips his hands underneath Will’s t-shirt and sweater, sliding them over his bare skin, and Will shivers, inhaling sharply.</p><p>“Is this all right?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“Yes,” says Will and looks at him again, presses his brow to Hannibal’s and closes his eyes.</p><p>Hannibal runs his hands up and down the length of Will’s back, and Will opens his eyes again, feeling warm from head to toe and mildly aroused. Hannibal’s watching him with those maroon eyes of his.</p><p>“I heard you call me your husband back there,” Will says to him quietly. “In English and Spanish.” </p><p>“You are my husband.”  </p><p>“You like calling me that.”</p><p>“Maybe I do,” Hannibal says. His hands slide down to rest on Will’s lower back again, still underneath Will’s clothes. “Let me take you to bed.”</p><p>Will presses a kiss to Hannibal’s forehead, then climbs out of Hannibal’s lap and onto his feet. His legs are half-asleep. He finishes the rest of his wine, and Hannibal grabs his own glass to take with him, leading Will to the master suite by the hand.</p>
<hr/><p>They change into their pajama pants and take their shoes off. Will keeps his t-shirt and sweater on, not wanting to shed the clothes he wore when he killed Padilla entirely yet. Hannibal, perhaps in imitation of Will, keeps his own long-sleeved top on from earlier. He turns on only the low-light in the bathroom and lights a few of the white candles lined up on a shelf he mounted to the wall. He sits on the foot of the bed and finishes his wine, watching Will pace before him like an agitated animal.</p><p>“We could just go to sleep,” says Hannibal. “That would be perfectly all right, Will.”</p><p>Will shakes his head. “I don’t want to sleep,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal stands up, sets his wine glass on the dresser behind Will, then takes Will’s hands in his and looks at him. “What do you want?” he says. “Whatever it is, I will accept you without judgment.”   </p><p>“I want—” Will says, then chokes on his words. He swallows, trying to be brave. “I want you to touch my skin,” he says. “I want to touch yours too.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles and lifts Will’s t-shirt and sweater up and off over his head without a word, then takes off his own soft top and drops it on the floor. He runs his hands from Will’s shoulders down his arms, and Will shivers, unsure whether he wants to step closer or away.</p><p>“You’re in control here, Will,” Hannibal tells him, hands encircling Will’s wrists. “We’ll only do what you want.”</p><p>Will pulls Hannibal into a hug, and Hannibal snakes his arms around Will, melting against him. They stand there embracing for a long time, and Will remembers their embrace at the top of the bluff, the night of their fall. The way he laid his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and the way Hannibal held him then with all the tension draining out of his body. Like he’d been waiting for Will to embrace him for years.</p><p>Will runs his hands all over Hannibal’s back, while Hannibal’s hands are unmoving on Will’s. Will’s chin and cheek rest on Hannibal’s shoulder, his fingers finding the still-pink scar of Hannibal’s entry wound on the right side of his lower back. Hannibal inhales deeply, smelling him, and Will feels drunk now, knowing it isn’t from the one glass of wine.</p><p>He steps back out of the embrace and looks at Hannibal, whose face is completely open in a way Will has rarely seen. Will reaches up and takes Hannibal’s face in both his hands, looking into his eyes, still so unsure where he wants this to go but relishing the skin to skin contact. This shared vulnerability. Hannibal pulls his hands down Will’s back and around to his front, caressing the long scar he left on Will’s belly. Will steps in and kisses Hannibal’s cheek, then his lips, as Hannibal strokes the ends of the scar with his thumbs, fingers curled over Will’s hips.</p><p>“How would you kill me now?” Will whispers, breath puffing against Hannibal’s lips.</p><p>Their eyes search each other’s, noses almost brushing.</p><p>“I would cut you open and eat your heart raw,” Hannibal says. “While you watched.”     </p><p>Will sinks to his knees just to kiss the scar of the exit wound in Hannibal’s belly, and it feels as reverential to Hannibal as it does to Will. Hannibal lays his hand on the back of Will’s head gently. Will plants a second kiss on Hannibal’s belly, not far from the scar.  </p><p>Then he stands up again and looks at Hannibal, finding an expression on the man’s face fit for the holy places of the world, where he might encounter his own version of the divine.</p><p>“Kiss me,” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal pulls Will’s face to his with his hands and kisses him with a passion Will didn’t know he was capable of. The kiss leaves him breathless and flushed.   </p><p>Will tilts his head back and offers his neck to Hannibal, who moves in without needing further instruction. He closes his eyes as Hannibal peppers his neck with kisses and bites, seeing in his mind the other man’s face the moment Will slit Padilla’s throat.</p><p>“You said once you’d given me a rare gift,” Will says, gasping when Hannibal sucks on his skin. “Now I understand you’ve given me another. The power to make justice in the world. To do what god should do—if he cared.”</p><p>Hannibal comes up from Will’s neck and looks at him closely in the shadows. Will looks back at him.</p><p>“Power is an aphrodisiac,” Hannibal says. “That, too, explains why you’re now hungry for a more erotic encounter.”</p><p>Will breaks into a toothy grin, cupping Hannibal’s face in his hands. “Have you been trying to manipulate me into sex this whole time?” he says.</p><p>“No,” says Hannibal. “But I will enjoy whatever experience we share together.”  </p><p>Will believes him.</p><p>He steers Hannibal backward to the foot of their bed and pushes him to lie down, their eyes never leaving each other’s. Will climbs up on top of him, straddling Hannibal, gliding his hands down the other’s man’s chest. “I don’t think I know what I’m doing,” he says, a little bit embarrassed.</p><p>“I think you’re doing just fine,” says Hannibal, resting his hands on Will’s thighs. “Follow your instincts, Will. They’ll never lead you astray.”</p><p>Will swallows and says, “I don’t want to take off the rest of our clothes.”</p><p>“We don’t have to.”</p><p>Will leans down to kiss Hannibal’s lips, then nuzzles his face. “Maybe if I just….” he says, then grinds his groin against Hannibal’s and instantly lets out a groan. Hannibal’s breath hitches, and Will sees his pupils blow wide. </p><p>Will rolls his hips again, and the friction feels good, their soft pajama pants between their flesh. Will’s hardening, and Hannibal is too, pressed against each other. Will covers Hannibal’s body with his own, shoving his hands and arms underneath Hannibal’s back and tucking his face into Hannibal’s bare shoulder. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s shoulders. Will starts to hump Hannibal, his rhythm steady, not too slow but not fast. Their breathing quickens until they’re both panting. They can smell each other and the faint trace of Padilla’s blood. His eyes closed, Will returns to the murder, feeling the hot blood on his hands again; he returns to the night he and Hannibal slaughtered the Red Dragon, that perfect moment when they looked at each other before attacking, the way they both pounced on their prey like a pair of dancers. The heat in his groin increases, and he feels the heat coming off Hannibal’s body in waves, feels Hannibal’s heart pounding underneath his own, feels Hannibal start to buck his hips up into Will’s. They both moan as the friction increases and their pace speeds up. Hannibal buries one hand in Will’s curls.</p><p>“Radiant boy,” he whispers in between breaths. “You kill so beautifully.”</p><p>“Hannibal,” Will says and makes a strangled noise as he continues to press and grind his erection into Hannibal’s. “God. I love killing with you. Loved the way you looked at me. <em>Fuck.”</em></p><p>Hannibal slides his hand down Will’s bare back and over his left buttock, using just enough pressure to encourage Will to hump more enthusiastically, liking the meaty feel of the flesh in his fingers. He touches Will as if the younger man is delicate, though he has proven to be as physically strong and resilient as Hannibal himself.</p><p>Will pulls his hands and arms from underneath Hannibal’s body and puts his elbows down on either side of him, trying to scoop his hips down and up with a more pronounced motion. He lets out a string of shaky moans, and Hannibal can see his face now, watches as Will’s eyes close and open and close again.</p><p>“Fuck, I’m close,” Will says, gasping. He looks at Hannibal for reassurance, smiling nervously. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Christ.”</p><p>“Don’t think,” Hannibal whispers, stroking Will’s face, the dramatic scar. “Just be here with me, in this moment.”</p><p>Will pumps his hips as fast as he can, feeling his orgasm building, his breathing louder and more labored. He closes his eyes and remembers the taste of blood. He smells Hannibal’s scent and imagines him covered in blood, cutting open the man Will killed only minutes before. “Oh, god,” he says quietly, overwhelmed by the emotion and physical sensation he feels. “Oh, god.”</p><p>Hannibal moves both of his hands to Will’s back again and cranes his head up to touch Will’s. Will responds in kind, pushing Hannibal’s head down on the bed again and keeping his brow pressed to the other man’s.</p><p>Will’s orgasm starts to rip through him and he cries out, a high-pitched yelp giving way to a more guttural moaning. He doesn’t stop rutting against Hannibal, the motion more desperate now, pleasure exploding through his pelvis in a way he hasn’t felt before. He drops his face into Hannibal’s neck and keens as his orgasm goes on and on, and Hannibal holds him, breathing heavy in Will’s ear, one hand hot on the back of Will’s neck. Will sobs Hannibal’s name, his whole body shaking now. Hannibal continues grinding up against him, in pursuit of his own release, wrapping his legs around Will at last.</p><p>Will whimpers, moving as best he can with Hannibal’s legs around him, coaxing him.  </p><p>“<em>Te amo</em>,” Hannibal whispers, his voice ragged and paper thin. “<em>Il mio guerriero, potente agnello</em>.”   </p><p>Then, he’s arching up into Will’s chest, throwing his head back, mouth open in virtual silence. Will lifts his head to look at him, feeling Hannibal’s legs clench around his waist, and watches as the other man comes undone. The aftershocks of Will’s orgasm still tingle through his groin, and he rubs against Hannibal in short, jerky movements, winding his arms around Hannibal’s torso in the space left beneath Hannibal’s back. He gently grabs Hannibal’s neck in his teeth, and he’s rewarded with a mangled noise from the other man, something between a sigh and a groan. Hannibal’s fingers are curled into the flesh of Will’s back, hooked around his shoulder blades.</p><p>As Hannibal sinks back down onto the bed, Will’s lips find his for a brief kiss, before plopping his face down into Hannibal’s shoulder. They stop rutting against each other after a few moments and hold each other still, both of them trembling from head to toe. They listen to each other’s panting, their senses filled with each other, and neither knows how much times passes before Will raises his head again to look at Hannibal.</p><p>“You’re crying,” Will says, smiling in wonder as he reaches up to wipe the tear tracks from Hannibal’s temples.</p><p>“So are you,” says Hannibal, looking at him.</p><p>And Will is, he realizes, his tears blending in with the sheen of sweat on his face. He laughs a shaky laugh, and Hannibal smiles at him, running a hand back through Will’s curls.</p><p>“Now, you are unmatched,” Hannibal tells Will.</p><p>Will just looks at him with shining eyes, watches as Hannibal’s eyes slip closed.</p><p>“I’ve never felt like that before,” he says.</p><p>“Neither have I,” says Hannibal. He opens his eyes on the ceiling. “I think a shower is in order.”</p><p>Will sits up, still straddling his husband. He looks down at him, smiling, and his expression is so tender, so loving and sensitive, that Hannibal will remember it forever.</p><p>Will lays his hand over Hannibal’s heart and says, “<em>Te amo tambien</em>.”</p><p>Hannibal will remember that too.</p>
<hr/><p>After they wash each other off in the shower, the sexual charge gone between them, they get back into bed wearing new sets of pajama pants and t-shirts. Will curls up against Hannibal’s side, and Hannibal holds him there with his arm, Will’s head on his shoulder.</p><p>“I don’t know if I’ll ever want to do that again, but if I do, I’m pretty sure it would only be after a kill,” Will says.</p><p>“That makes perfect sense,” says Hannibal, smelling Will’s damp curls. “If we never do it again, I won’t mind. But I am thankful we shared the experience.”</p><p>“So am I.”</p><p>They lie quiet together for a while, lost in their own thoughts.</p><p>“What did you call me?” says Will. “After you told me you loved me.”</p><p>Hannibal hesitates, then says, “My warrior. Mighty lamb.”</p><p>Will smiles. “What should I call you?”</p><p>“My name will suffice.”</p><p>“How about <em>my love</em>?” Will says.</p><p>An unexpected warmth blooms through Hannibal’s chest. “If you wish,” he says.        </p><p>        </p><p> </p><p>        </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If the foreign language sentences in this chapter are wrong, blame Google Translate. </p><p>If you enjoy this, please let me know! I could really use the joy of good reviews right now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After work one afternoon, his first September in Buenos Aires, Will’s running in the park nearest home. He returned to running a few months ago, wanting to maintain his physical fitness given his status as a fugitive and a killer. He also needed a way to get out of his head and create some psychic space between himself and Hannibal. The house is too full of them and their relationship; even when Will’s home alone, he finds it hard to see things without Hannibal’s perspective lingering in the back of his mind. He’s always loved the outdoors and living in rural locations, so the parks of Buenos Aires are his antidote to feeling overwhelmed by the distinct lack of wilderness in the middle of this metropolitan city.</p><p>He’s near the tail end of his run on this September day when he sees a young woman playing catch with her dog on one of the lawns. He slows down as he passes them, unable to look away as the small dog bounds across the length of the lawn to fetch the ball and bring it back to the woman. She’s smiling and speaking to the dog affectionately in Spanish. She’s young, probably early twenties, slender and brown-skinned, her black hair in a braid.</p><p>This is not the first park visitor with a dog he’s seen here since he made this place his running spot, but something about her and her dog makes him stop at the end of her lawn. He stands there and watches them, knowing he probably looks creepier for it than he would if he just approached them. He smiles as he watches them, hoping the woman won’t mind or move away.</p><p>She catches his gaze eventually and doesn’t seem wary. The next time the dog brings her back the ball, she leashes her again and starts walking the animal toward Will.</p><p>“<em>Hola</em>,” she says, as she and the dog get close enough that she can speak without raising her voice.</p><p>“<em>Hola,”</em> Will replies with a nod, grinning wide in anticipation of contact with the dog.</p><p>“<em>Le gusta mi perrita</em>?” she says.</p><p>“<em>Me gustan todos los perros</em>.” Will’s Spanish is limited, his accent hopelessly American, but he’s been trying his best to learn more of it. He doesn’t want to struggle through this interaction, though. <em>“Hables ingles?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Si, por su puesto.” </em>
</p><p>The dog finally reaches Will, and he squats down to pet her.</p><p>“You’re not from Argentina?” the woman says, her accent thick.</p><p>“No,” he says, looking up at her. “America. Are you from Buenos Aires?”</p><p>She nods. “You don’t have a dog?”</p><p>“No. I did before I moved here, but I don’t think I’ll be getting one anytime soon. I work at an animal shelter, but I still miss having my own dogs.”</p><p>“Why can’t you have your own?” she says.</p><p>“My husband and I don’t know how long we’ll be staying yet,” Will says. “If we have to leave the country on short notice, having a dog could be a problem.</p><p>Something in the woman’s eyes shifts, a touch of a smile coming back into her lips. “Your husband?” she says. “<em>Tu marido</em>?”</p><p>Will nods, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Yes. I’m married to a man.”</p><p>Now, the young woman gives him a broad, full smile. “Do you live here in Palermo?”</p><p>“We do. He thought it’d be a good place for us, given how gay-friendly it is.”</p><p>“My girlfriend and I live here too,” she says. “We haven’t been here long, but we’re very happy. This is where we wanted to be after college.”</p><p>Will suddenly understands her warm reaction to learning he has a husband, and strangely, he feels his own delight to know the woman is in a same-sex relationship. “Are you a lesbian?” he says, before he can think to hold back on the invasive question.</p><p>“Yes,” she says, now totally at ease.</p><p>Will reflects her sunny smile and looks down at the dog again, who’s thoroughly enjoying the belly rub he’s giving her.</p><p>“My girlfriend and I haven’t met a married gay couple before,” the young woman says. “It’s nice to meet a man married to another man.”</p><p>Will looks up at her again, senses her admiration and the hope he’s inspired in her. It almost makes him blush. This is the first time he’s met somebody who’s reacted to his marital status with enthusiasm instead of mere acceptance. He’s surprised how pleasant it is.</p><p>She holds out her hand and says, “I’m Paola. And this is Coco.”</p><p>Will shakes her hand, still kneeling on the ground. “Pleased to meet you, Paola. I’m Michael. Michael Morgan.”</p><p>He stands up at last, towering over Paola, and wipes his hands on his pants.</p><p>“If you’d like to meet me here again to play with Coco, I could let you know when we’re coming,” she says, a bit shyly.</p><p>“That would be great,” says Will, smiling at her. “Let me give you my number.”</p><p>They trade phone numbers and bid each other goodbye.</p><p>Will’s good mood lasts him all the way home.   </p><hr/><p>Will rolls his bad shoulder several times as he comes into the master bedroom from the bathroom, wearing only his loose pajama pants and ready to turn in for the night. The shoulder, his right, bears three scars now: his first stab wound acquired when he was a homicide detective, the bullet wound Chiyoh gave him in Italy, and the stab wound Dolarhyde gifted him with. The amount of scar tissue in the shoulder has left him with permanently limited mobility and a tendency toward chronic muscle pain there. He can move it well enough to hunt, kill, defend himself—but it hurts him and stiffens up periodically.</p><p>Hannibal, who’s sitting up on his side of the bed reading, peers at him over his glasses. “Is your shoulder bothering you again?” he says.</p><p>“It’s not too bad,” says Will. “I’ll put some Tiger Balm on it, and I should be fine tomorrow.”</p><p>He gets into his side of the bed, next to Hannibal, and takes off his wedding ring, setting it in the little ceramic dish on his night table.</p><p>Hannibal tucks a bookmark into the pages of his book and sets it aside on his own night stand. “Come here,” he says. “Let me work on it.”</p><p>Will looks at him, then climbs over Hannibal to sit between the other man’s legs under the sheet and blanket. Hannibal reaches into the top drawer of his night stand for the massage oil he keeps there and slathers Will’s right shoulder in it, the smell of black currant and vanilla pleasant to them both. Hannibal starts to massage the shoulder with both his hands, and Will closes his eyes. Hannibal’s nimble, slender fingers always feel particularly suited to massage.</p><p>“I made a couple of new friends today,” says Will.</p><p>“Is that so?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“A young woman and her dog. They were in the park when I went on my run.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles, digging his thumb into the back of Will’s shoulder. “Did you find out their names?”</p><p>“Paola,” says Will. “And Coco.”</p><p>“What do they look like?”</p><p>“Paola’s in her early twenties. She has brown skin and long, black hair. Pretty face. Coco’s a mutt. Small, mostly brown coat. Pretty docile, I think.”</p><p>“Do they live in the area?” says Hannibal, working both sides of Will’s shoulder with the heels of his palms.</p><p>“They live in Palermo, yeah. Paola’s a lesbian, and she lives with her girlfriend.”</p><p>“What did you tell her about yourself?”</p><p>Will cracks his eyes open. “You mean, did I let her think I’m heterosexual or did I tell her about you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I don’t know why you would expect me to tell anyone I’m heterosexual now, Hannibal,” Will says. “We’ve been passing ourselves off as a gay couple since we got here. And now we’re married.”</p><p>“You’ve lived most of your life as a heterosexual man,” says Hannibal. “Perhaps you still think of yourself as one, despite the recent developments in our relationship. I would not blame you for wanting to pass yourself off as one to a stranger.”</p><p>“Maybe to a heterosexual stranger. But not to Paola. If I’d neglected to mention my husband, she might not have trusted me.”</p><p>“That is true. Her self-protective instinct as a young woman around men aside, we are all prone to bond more readily with others who share our particular differences, especially if we find ourselves a part of a marginalized population.”</p><p>Will is quiet for a moment, relishing Hannibal’s firm touch, the other man’s strength. “If I told strangers I’m heterosexual, that would mean telling them you and I are roommates. Close friends, at most. Why would you expect me to do that?”</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t answer, kneading the slope of Will’s shoulder and the back of it.</p><p>“You’re not gay either, but I don’t expect you to tell people otherwise now,” Will says.</p><p>When Hannibal remains silent, Will feels doubt creep in, foreign and unexpected.</p><p>“Do you?” he says, inclining his head slightly toward Hannibal.</p><p>“No,” Hannibal says. “It was I who made us husbands in the public sphere before we married, if you recall. I care nothing for the social advantages of presenting myself as heterosexual here.”</p><p>“But you think I do?”</p><p>“I would understand if you did. You would not be wrong in assuming that even the tolerant heterosexuals of the world will treat you even slightly better if they see you as one of them.”</p><p>Will lays his hand on Hannibal’s thigh. “Hannibal,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal slides his hand up the right side of Will’s neck and pinches the flesh below his curls between his thumb and forefinger, his other thumb working a spot next to Will’s right shoulder blade. Will closes his eyes and inhales at the sensation, curling his fingers into Hannibal’s thigh a little.</p><p>“I’m not ashamed of you,” says Will. “I wouldn’t have married you if I wanted society to see me as heterosexual now.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles. “Be that as it may,” he replies. “I’ll never blame you for manipulating your public image to your own advantage.”</p><p>“I know you wouldn’t, but that’s not the point.”</p><p>Hannibal brings the fingers of his right hand to the front of Will’s shoulder, working the muscles under and around his scars, while his left hand presses against the back of the shoulder.</p><p>Will hisses, still holding fast to Hannibal’s thigh. “You’re not sure I’m as committed to this as you are,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal won’t deny the conclusions of Will’s brilliant empathy, nor will he openly admit to his own sense of vulnerability in their relationship. He continues to massage Will’s shoulder, enjoying the scent of the oil and the warmth of Will’s skin.</p><p>“What do I have to do to convince you that I take our relationship seriously?” says Will.</p><p>“Don’t concern yourself with my insecurities, Will,” Hannibal replies. “They are not your responsibility.”</p><p>“Bullshit. If you need my reassurance that my feelings for you and our relationship are authentic, of course that’s my responsibility.”</p><p>Hannibal kisses Will’s bare, oil-slick shoulder, then wraps his arms around Will’s torso and pulls him close, resting his face against Will’s curls. “You weren’t finished telling me about Paola and her dog,” he says.</p><p>“You’re not going to change the subject until we resolve this,” says Will, leaning back into Hannibal. “Is this about sex?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Do you doubt my commitment to us because we don’t have a conventional sex life?”</p><p>Hannibal considers his answer for a moment, then says, “The logic is reasonable, isn’t it? Sex is usually the driving motive behind human pair bonding. It is rare for someone to choose a partner outside the purview of their sexual desires. Not least of all because their sexual desires remain and must be dealt with.”</p><p>“Just because I don’t want to have sex with you all the time doesn’t mean I’m less invested in our relationship than I would be if I did,” says Will. “And we’ve had sex. That I initiated, remember?”</p><p>“I’ll always remember.”</p><p>Will slides his hands up to rest on Hannibal’s knees. “We kiss and we cuddle. More importantly, we share the intimacy of killing. You said yourself that’s more binding than sex could ever be. And you’re right.”</p><p>“It’s true for me,” says Hannibal. “And always has been. But you and I are not identical, Will. Sexually or otherwise. Though we are very similar and understand each other enough to connect.”</p><p>Will reaches back to lay his hand in Hannibal’s hair, over the back of his head. “What do you want from me, Hannibal?”</p><p>“Only what pleases you to give,” Hannibal says, smelling Will’s hair.</p><p>“I’ve never been a highly sexual person,” Will tells him. “If you were a woman, I wouldn’t necessarily be more sexual with you. Maybe I’d be a little different. Maybe I’d have sex more often just to please you. But I thought I could follow my natural impulses with you. Be myself, without apology.”</p><p>Hannibal’s arms tighten around the younger man. “You can,” he says in a fierce whisper. “That’s always what I’ve wanted for you. I want you to be entirely yourself. I want to know exactly who you are.”</p><p>“But if being myself makes you doubt me…. That’s a problem.”</p><p>Hannibal shakes his head a little, chin grazing the top of Will’s shoulder. “I didn’t understand your sexual nature clearly. We haven’t discussed it in great enough detail. I filled in the blanks with my own assumptions—but I’m happy to be corrected.”</p><p>Will’s arm sinks back down, hand slipping away from Hannibal’s head, and he slouches in Hannibal’s embrace. “My feelings for you don’t come from sexual desire,” he says. “But they’ve given rise to a certain attraction. I don’t love you or want to be physical with you because you’re a man but because you’re you. And my unwillingness to engage in certain sexual acts with you isn’t about you being a man. It’s an aversion to the acts themselves. I was never comfortable with the full range of heterosexual activity either. I tolerated more of it than I enjoyed.”</p><p>Hannibal soaks up this information, the gears in his mind turning. He keeps his chin tucked into Will’s shoulder, chest and belly pressed to Will’s back. “You’re picky about the sex you have with others,” he says. “But you have a sex drive.”</p><p>“Kicked in right on schedule when I was a teenager.”</p><p>“Do you masturbate?”</p><p>Will feels embarrassed by the question, as ridiculous as that seems to him. “Yes,” he says. “I’ve always felt more comfortable doing that than trying to navigate sex with another person.”</p><p>“But you enjoy sensuality and affection with others,” says Hannibal, piecing his picture of Will together in his mind.</p><p>“Yes. I like sensuality much more than actual sex. Usually, people can’t separate the two, so I let the physical intimacy I want turn into sex.”</p><p>Hannibal sweeps Will’s curls away from the back of his neck and kisses Will there, feeling the other man shiver against him in response. “What do you think about when you masturbate?”</p><p>Will hesitates. “Well, lately, I’ve been thinking about our kills,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal grins, immensely pleased. He unwinds his arms from Will’s torso, pulling them back, and doesn’t miss the way Will leans further into him as if chasing his embrace. He starts to rub Will’s shoulders, both of them.</p><p>“Perhaps we can try masturbating in each other’s presence,” Hannibal says.</p><p>“Now?” Will replies.</p><p>“No. Some other time.”</p><p>Hannibal massages Will’s shoulders in silence for a couple minutes, admiring the contours of the other man’s back. “Are you going to finish telling me about Paola?” he says eventually.</p><p>“I like her,” says Will. “And her dog. We traded numbers.”</p><p>“It would be good for you to have a friend. Someone you care about who wants nothing from you.”</p><p>Will smiles.        </p><hr/><p>Hannibal’s drive home from his favorite market is just long enough for him to get totally lost in the reflection he began in his office earlier. He lingered there after his last patient of the day, as he often does, collecting his thoughts and taking the opportunity to be alone in his own space. He started thinking about what to cook for dinner and unexpectedly remembered that night, so long ago, where he served Will the ortolan bird. He hadn’t returned to that memory in quite some time, not since his first year as a prisoner, and this time, he closed his eyes just as he had in the cell and remembered that night in tantalizing detail. The look on Will’s face as he crushed the bird in his mouth and swallowed, the taste of the meat, the incredible erotic tension that filled the silence between Hannibal and Will. It’s one of Hannibal’s favorite memories of his and Will’s pre-Argentina past.</p><p>In the market, Hannibal pored over produce and fresh herbs, picked up a loaf of bread from the baker’s stall, and allowed himself the time to stroll up and down the aisles just to fill his senses with the smells and sights. The memory of the ortolan dinner gave way to the first dinner he and Will shared in Cuba that felt hopeful instead of strained: the way Will smiled, even laughed a little, and complimented him on the <em>picadillo</em> he’d cooked. That was the first time Hannibal felt like maybe, just maybe, Will would stay with him and be happy. Hannibal had no designs on forming a sexual relationship with Will at the time, had never genuinely needed it. All he’d ever cared about was the committed companionship of the one person who truly understood him, and that’s what he’d hoped waited for him in Buenos Aires.  </p><p>Hannibal drives toward the house from the market without staying conscious off his actions, lost in thoughts about Will and their still relatively new life. Even after they arrived in Argentina together, Hannibal wasn’t sure their union would last. He knew that Will’s ability to stay with him ultimately depended on Will’s decision to embrace killing as a way of life and Hannibal’s own natural proclivity for it. Even after their decisive slaying of the Red Dragon, Will could’ve chosen to deny his own becoming, deny his bond with Hannibal, all in some ill-guided attempt to continue pretending to be Will’s former idea of a good person. Hannibal savored every good moment between them leading up to the murder of Oscar Padilla as if it might be their last. Every kiss, every touch, every one of Will’s smiles, he committed to one of the most exquisite rooms of his memory palace; they felt half-dreamed, like pieces of a dying man’s final hallucination. Not even their marriage license, signed with false names, was enough to convince Hannibal that Will would remain with him once the monster reared its head again, looking to feed.     </p><p>Hannibal’s lingering doubts about Will’s intentions to stay evaporated the night they killed Padilla. As soon as their eyes met and Will sliced the pig’s throat open, Hannibal knew that Will would never again return to his old life, the broken chrysalis he’d shed on a cold, windswept cliff overlooking the Atlantic. The sexual encounter that had followed, Hannibal welcomed and enjoyed, but it was the kill that mattered for his peace of mind. It was the moment Will stood behind their slain prey, his hand in the man’s blood as it poured from the gaping throat, that Hannibal found him most beautiful. He felt as if he was in the presence of one of God’s fearsome avenging angels. When he returns to that memory now, he sees Will’s face cast in a soft glow, the light emanating from within. He had not been wrong to give Will the alias “Michael.”</p><p>Hannibal pulls into the driveway at the house, realizing only as he does so that he’s arrived, and returns to the present. He switches off the engine and just sits there in the car, peering at the house through his window. He knows that the life he shares with Will, their new relationship, will never be perfect. They are only at the beginning, and there will be fights, disagreements, risk, the ever-looming threat of capture until they provide false evidence of their deaths, the renewed chance of arrest for murders they have yet to commit. There could be sexual conflict. Hannibal has never envisioned himself dying an old man of natural causes; he has known since he was young that he would probably die by a violent hand. He hasn’t changed that expectation. He only hopes that Will is the one to kill him and that afterward, Will is able to go on with his life in whatever way pleases him most.</p><p>But despite all of this, Hannibal sits in the car, in his and Will’s driveway, and allows a surge of unbridled joy to overtake him. He closes his eyes as he feels them well with tears. He waited so long for this. Before he met Will, he never imagined anything like their connection, their relationship, their home. He moved through the world alone, his friendships and sexual liaisons little more than a collection of alibis, distractions, and tools. He was not aware of his own loneliness enough to suffer for it. He missed Misha, but he did not look for a replacement. He didn’t believe anyone in the world could understand him and simultaneously evoke in him an authentic loving attachment. Will proved him wrong.</p><p>Hannibal opens his eyes, his face wet with tears that drip from his jaw. He sniffs and wipes his skin dry with the sleeve of his coat. He is humbled by his own vulnerability, the power Will Graham has to affect him emotionally and psychologically to this extent. It unnerves him, but he has no desire to flee.</p><p>Hannibal gathers his briefcase and the cloth bag full of groceries out of the car and goes inside, heading straight for the kitchen.</p><p>“Hannibal?” Will calls out, probably from his study.</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t answer him, for once.</p><p>“I was about to call you,” says Will, as he reaches the kitchen. He checks his watch. Hannibal knows that Will still gets anxious about the possibility of Hannibal’s capture and arrest, usually when they’re apart and Hannibal doesn’t check in or show up on time.</p><p>Hannibal turns toward him after putting away the produce in the fridge, and Will, who’s standing on the opposite side of the island, instantly knows something is off when he sees Hannibal’s face. Hannibal can feel him react to the perception, a sharp shift in the current between them.</p><p>“Hannibal?” says Will. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Hannibal smiles softly, lifting his water-logged eyes to look back at him. “Nothing,” he says. But his voice sounds thick to his own ears.</p><p>Will stares at him, fear in his eyes. “Bullshit,” he says, quiet as if they’re being surveilled. “Don’t you lie to me. Not now. Not after everything.”</p><p>Hannibal gives him an indulgent look. “I’m not lying. Nothing is wrong. Nothing has happened. I simply grew emotional over my own thoughts.” He starts to move past Will, going from the kitchen into the living room, on his way to the nearest bathroom to fix his face. He sheds his coat and leaves it on the back of a chair.</p><p>Will follows him, hot on his heels. “Hannibal,” Will says, his voice now less fearful and more urgent with frustration. “You can’t just come home late without warning me, in tears, and tell me everything’s fine. There isn’t any room in this relationship for secrets. I tell you everything, you tell me everything. That’s the way it works.”</p><p>Hannibal stops and turns around to face him suddenly, not far from the little guest bathroom. Will almost bumps into him.</p><p>“Will, I agree to always tell you the truth and to keep no secrets about actual events that occur in my life, in our life. But you must allow me a certain amount of mental privacy. A man is entitled to that.”</p><p>They look at each other, so close that they could kiss with another step, and Will’s expression is almost distraught. Hannibal’s attempt at asserting a boundary in a historically boundary-less relationship must be giving Will emotional whiplash.</p><p>“Nothing is wrong,” Hannibal says, his voice softer again. He grips Will’s wrists lightly in his hands. “I swear to you.”</p><p>Will swallows. “I want to comfort you,” he says. “But I can’t if you don’t tell me why you were crying.”</p><p>Hannibal’s weak resolve to hide his emotions from Will crumbles at that. He smiles. Slides his hands up to rest on Will’s shoulders. “I was crying because I’m happy. I no longer fear that you will leave.”</p><p>The look that surfaces in Will’s eyes and on his face could make Hannibal cry again if he lets himself. It’s a painfully tender look. Hannibal has no idea how Will has survived this long being as sensitive as he is.</p><p>Will pulls Hannibal into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around Hannibal’s torso, and Hannibal holds onto him with a sense of relief. It’s a warm, emotional embrace. They both close their eyes, Will’s head resting on Hannibal’s shoulder.</p><p>“You should’ve told me you were still afraid,” Will says. “You haven’t had a reason to be since we fell off that bluff.”</p><p>“I don’t believe it was that simple,” says Hannibal.</p><p>“It was simple to me. I was going to die with you because I knew I couldn’t live without you.”</p><p>Hannibal squeezes Will to him and doesn’t speak.</p><p>“I didn’t marry you just so I could crush you with abandonment, Hannibal,” Will says. “We’re past all that. You told me in Cuba you didn’t want to hurt me anymore. I don’t want to hurt you either.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles, his cheek pressed into Will’s curls.</p><p>Will turns his face down into Hannibal’s shoulder and breathes him in.</p><p>“I couldn’t be sure until we hunted together,” says Hannibal. “And killed again.”</p><p>Will pulls back out of the hug just enough to look at Hannibal. “Even if I decided to never kill again, I would stay with you,” he says. “I love you. And it’s not just about killing. It never has been.”</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes prickle with tears again, much to his chagrin, and Will’s eyes mirror his.</p><p>“What else is it about, Will?” Hannibal says, almost whispering.</p><p>Will doesn’t answer right away, looking at Hannibal with his arms still around him. “With you, I know myself completely. And I’m free. I never have to hold back any part of myself. You’ve made that clear. I’ve never met anyone else who would grant me that same freedom.”</p><p>A tear spills out of Hannibal’s eye, rolling fast down his cheek, and Will reaches up to cup that side of Hannibal’s face.</p><p>“Even before I knew I loved you, when I was still angry at you for hurting me, when a part of me wanted to see you dead or in prison, I wanted to run away with you. Because you were my friend,” Will says.</p><p>A tear falls out of Hannibal’s other eye.        </p><p>“This was never just about killing, Hannibal,” Will tells him, his voice low. “This was always about you and me.”</p><p>Hannibal steps forward to close the small space between them and presses a kiss to Will’s lips. Will slides his hand to the back of Hannibal’s neck from his cheek, his other arm still hooked around Hannibal’s side, hand pressed to his back. The kiss is long and gentle, their eyes closed.</p><p>Hannibal breaks the kiss and whispers onto Will’s lips, “<em>Aš tave myliu</em>.”</p><p>Will smiles a little at him, eyes still misty. “How many languages are you going to use to tell me you love me?” he says.</p><p>“Every one I know,” says Hannibal.</p><hr/><p>They allow thirty days to pass following their murder of Oscar Padilla, watching for any news in the media of a suspect and waiting for a police visit to their home that never comes. If Mrs. Padilla suspects Hannibal had something to do with her husband’s death, she doesn’t mention it; she’s happy to move on with her life in possession of all the money and assets she shared with her husband. She warns Hannibal she might not need therapy much longer, and he doesn’t try to persuade her otherwise. He’ll be happy to see her gone.</p><p>After the thirty day waiting period, Hannibal and Will discuss their next hunt: when they should carry it out, who they might target, how they’d like to do it. They agree that the next kill will happen on their country property, and once they identify the target, they’ll watch him for at least a couple weeks before making their move. Will asks Hannibal to find him someone just as depraved as Padilla, maybe even worse. Hannibal is happy to oblige.</p><p>Hannibal starts training Will to fight the way he does, like an apex predator. Will can hold his own in a fight as well as any man with his law enforcement background, but Hannibal explains that he has to develop the instincts of a fighter on the offensive. If nothing else, he can’t allow himself to get rusty. They practice in a room Hannibal left unfurnished, sparring and wrestling until they’re both breathless and the muscles in Will’s shoulders ache. They both take way more pleasure in it than they admit to each other, the excitement and physicality of their drills so much like sex. They admire each other’s bodies and movements as they circle and charge and flee each other, both of them naked from the waist up and barefoot. One afternoon, Will throws Hannibal against the wall hard, fighting off the older man’s attack, and Hannibal looks feral with sexual desire. For a moment, Will fears and anticipates Hannibal pinning him down on the floor and fucking him right there, whether Will is enthusiastic about it or not, but instead, Hannibal takes a breath, his glistening chest heaving, before crossing the room and kissing Will passionately.</p><p>They haven’t had a second sexual encounter since the night they killed Padilla, and despite the conversations they’ve had since then about Will’s feelings on the matter, he can’t help but worry sometimes that Hannibal is frustrated or disappointed by the lack of sex. He knows Hannibal isn’t wired like most people when it comes to sex any more than he’s wired like most people in general. But still—the man is clearly attracted to him and still has plenty of libido left. Will cycles through anxiety, guilt, fear, and indignation over the course of several weeks on the subject of not having sex with Hannibal, until he starts to feel pressured to get their second kill over with, just so they can get each other off immediately after. Then, he worries that the erotic transference he experienced with Hannibal after their first planned murder was a fluke, a one-time thing that won’t happen again, and then where will they be?</p><p>Several nights, when they’re lying in bed together, Will considers trying to initiate a sexual encounter just to please Hannibal, but he can never bring himself to go through with it. He revels in the kissing and the caressing, the way Hannibal holds him, their skin to skin contact, and he doesn’t genuinely want it to become sex for his own satisfaction, despite the fact he’s often half-aroused after several minutes of he and Hannibal touching. On those nights, he falls asleep feeling selfish, as Hannibal obliviously spoons him.</p><p>Hannibal can tell Will is struggling with something he isn’t talking about, that much is clear to Will, but Hannibal doesn’t ask for several days.</p><p>Finally, on a night when they’re sitting outside in their backyard with second glasses of wine, Hannibal casually says, “Is there a problem I don’t know about?”</p><p>Will looks over at him, feeling like he just got caught breaking a rule. He doesn’t know what to say.</p><p>“You’ve been ruminating over something,” Hannibal continues. “I was hoping you would find resolution without needing to discuss the matter with me, but enough time has passed that I believe you need my help.”</p><p>Will looks away from him and takes a drink of wine, grateful it’s a strong red. “Sex,” he says. “The problem is sex.”</p><p>“You’ll have to be more specific, Will.”</p><p>Will sighs. “We haven’t had any since that night, and I’ve been worried that you want to. I know you said you were all right if we never did again, but I know you would have me if I let you. And I feel bad for depriving you. But I don’t want to make myself do it just for you. It feels too dishonest. I can’t allow dishonesty to seep back into our relationship.”</p><p>Hannibal remains as calm and inscrutable as he usually is, and Will hates how impossible it is to guess what he’s thinking when he steals a glance at the other man.</p><p>“You are not depriving me of anything I consider necessary,” Hannibal says. “I assure you that if I was truly frustrated to the point of unhappiness, you would know it without having to ask. Whether you wanted to have sex every day, once a month, once a year, or hardly ever, I would want you here with me and cherish your companionship. I could have sex with anyone, Will. What we have is so much more valuable to me than that.”</p><p>Will looks at him, then away again, still unconvinced.</p><p>“Have you stopped to consider the role that sex has played in my life?” says Hannibal, after a pause of silence.</p><p>“Not really,” Will replies. “I assumed you’ve always done it for the simple reason that you enjoy it, crave it like most people do.”</p><p>“I have gone long stretches of time without having sex. And I’ve also had sex for reasons that had nothing to do with attraction or the irresistible physical urge. Sex is a highly effective tool of manipulation, as I mentioned to you before.” Hannibal sips on his wine, looking into the yard along with Will. “Perhaps it will surprise you to learn that I have never loved a sexual partner before.”</p><p>Will snaps his attention onto Hannibal. He takes a moment to process the confession. “I—I guess it doesn’t entirely surprise me,” he says. “Most people would claim you’re not capable of love.”</p><p>Hannibal grins, sniffing his wine, shooting a look at Will. “You and I both know that isn’t true.” He takes another sip.</p><p>“So—so I’m the only person you’ve ever been in love with?” says Will, forgetting all about sex for a minute.</p><p>“Now that I have you,” says Hannibal. “I would say yes, that’s true.”</p><p>Will blinks at him, feeling like the floor just fell out from under him. He feels so many emotions, he can’t name any of them, until he recognizes the familiar sinking feeling in his gut. “If I’m the only person you’ve ever been in love with, that should mean you want to have sex with me more than anyone else you’ve ever met.”</p><p>“Yes and no. As I’ve told you before, what I wanted more than anything for us was to share the experience of taking life, the thrill of which has always far surpassed sex for me. And that is an act I have not shared with anyone else but you. I may have had the opportunity to work with men who do what I do in the past, but I was never interested in taking it. When you and killed the Red Dragon together…. That was far more sublime than all the sexual encounters I’d ever had before. It is true that the encounter we shared recently was satisfying, far more satisfying than sex I’ve had with other people, and I suspect that each time we engage each other sexually, if we do so again, will be more pleasurable than any of my past sexual experiences. But everything we do together is more pleasurable than the sex I’ve had with others, Will. Sharing a meal, kissing, sleeping side by side, having a conversation.”</p><p>Will holds eye contact with Hannibal as difficult as it is for him right now, as much as he wants to look away and hide from the their mutual vulnerability. The sheer enormity of Hannibal’s love and adoration of him overwhelms Will, leaves him speechless and emotional.</p><p>Hannibal finishes his wine, looking back out into the night above and beyond the walls of their yard. “It would be difficult to live the rest of my life in your presence and never be able to touch at all, to stop myself from caressing you, embracing you. Kissing you. I enjoy our affection, our sensuality. That would be much harder to live without than sex, for the simple reason that our physical affection is an expression of our feelings for one another, our closeness. Sex has never held these connotations for me with anyone before you, so it is not a challenge for me to live without it now, knowing your avoidance of it has little to do with me.”</p><p>Will swallows, the knot in his gut tight. “You honestly believe you could go the rest of your life without sex and not resent me for it?”</p><p>“I wasn’t aware that was my only option, but if it is, then yes,” says Hannibal.</p><p>“Well, it’s not your only option,” Will says. “You could have sex with other people. There’s a good chance you and I will do it again…. But I don’t imagine we’ll ever have the kind of sexual relationship you would ideally want.”</p><p>“You assume my ideal is a match to the average person’s. I have never given you any good reason to assume that. The truth is I never had an ideal sexual relationship in mind at all.”</p><p>Will finally sucks down the last of his wine, feeling buzzed now and grateful for the way it slows his mind down just a little. “You mentioned masturbation,” he says. “Doing that together. We could try it…. Now, if you want.”</p><p>Hannibal turns his head to look at Will. “Are you offering because you’re in the mood for pleasure or because you want to satisfy the hunger you imagine I have?”</p><p>Will looks him in the eyes, contemplating the question. “I’d like to relax,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal seems to be satisfied with that answer. He stands up, empty wine glass in one hand, and offers his empty hand to Will.</p><p>They go upstairs to the master suite, Will’s stomach fluttering with nerves.</p><p>“I’m going to run you a bath,” says Hannibal, as he sheds his clothes and slips into his plush robe.</p><p>“A bath?” says Will, already out of his shoes and socks.</p><p>“You said you wanted to relax. A bath is a good place to start.”</p><p>Hannibal goes on into the bathroom without waiting for Will, and Will lingers in the bedroom, listening to the water running in the giant stand-alone tub. By the time Hannibal reemerges to invite him in, Will’s wearing his own robe and nothing else.</p><p>Hannibal sits on a short stool at the head of the tub, as Will enters the bathroom that smells of pine and other earthy scents he can’t place. The scent alone begins to put him at ease, and he wonders when and where Hannibal got his hands on this bubble bath mix.</p><p>“Are you going to watch me soak?” Will says, as he unties the belt of his robe.</p><p>“No,” says Hannibal, hands loosely together between his legs. “I thought you would appreciate a scalp massage.”</p><p>Will smirks a little as he turns around and takes of his robe, hanging it on one of the wall pegs. “You spoil me,” he says, half-teasing.</p><p>“To be spoiled is to receive undeserved, unreasonable indulgence. And you are certainly not undeserving, Will.”</p><p>Will feels shy about standing naked in front of Hannibal for the few seconds it takes him to climb into the bath, despite the fact they’ve technically already had sex. Hannibal doesn’t take his eyes off him but also doesn’t look with any discernible lust. Not the way he looked at Will when the younger man killed Padilla or when Will threw him into a wall during a sparring session.</p><p>Will sinks into the deliciously warm water, underneath the modest layer of suds covering the surface, and allows his head to rest back into the lip of the tub. He shuts his eyes with a long sigh, his hands up on the tub rim. His body fits comfortably in the oversized soaking tub, something Hannibal must’ve special ordered. He hasn’t used it before tonight, although he’s contemplated doing so more than once. A couple times, he’s caught Hannibal lounging in the bath, usually staring off into space or lying with his eyes closed.   </p><p>Hannibal waits a minute or two before slipping his hands into Will’s curls. The pads of his fingers press into Will’s scalp, pressure without motion, and already Will wants to purr in pleasure. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable,” Hannibal says behind him.</p><p>Will doesn’t reply, keeping his shut, and Hannibal begins to slowly rub at his scalp, his touch careful enough not to induce pain or other unpleasant sensations.</p><p>“Would you like me to talk?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“If you have something worth saying,” Will replies.</p><p>Hannibal’s quiet for a bit, and in the silence, Will almost starts to doze off.</p><p>“When I was a young man,” Hannibal begins. “Some years before my first kill, I had a brief affair with another man.”</p><p>Will opens his eyes, caught totally off guard by this piece of information. For some reason, he had assumed all this time that Hannibal has only had sex with women. He has no idea how he feels about being wrong.</p><p>“He was older than me,” says Hannibal. “But not by much. Maybe thirty, at the time. I had never been with a man before him, and he seduced me in a way that I had not experienced prior to our meeting. I think I allowed him to succeed out of fascination more than anything else. It was a new feeling, being the pursued instead of the pursuer.”</p><p>Will’s still not sure he wants to hear about this, a strange jealousy mingling with his curiosity. He’s less relaxed now than he was before, more alert, but the bath and Hannibal’s hands on his scalp keep him from becoming too agitated. “Who fucked who?” he says, his voice steady enough to conceal his emotions.</p><p>“A predictable question,” says Hannibal. “Is that really the most interesting detail to you?”</p><p>“I’m curious.”</p><p>But Hannibal can probably tell it’s more than curiosity driving Will’s question.</p><p>“We penetrated each other,” Hannibal says. “He wanted to show me everything there was to know about sex with a man. He preferred to be the one doing the penetrating, but he allowed me to take him that way many times. I was the more dominant personality, I suppose, despite being younger.”</p><p>Will doesn’t speak for a while, thinking about the information. Trying to imagine Hannibal in his early to mid-twenties, having sex with another man. A hot coal of jealousy smolders in the pit of his stomach, irrational and irritating. Will’s always assumed Hannibal has far more sexual experience than he does, and until recently, he never cared much about what the older man’s sexual history entailed. But something about the idea of Hannibal with a man feels like a thorn in Will’s side.</p><p>“Did you love him?” Will blurts out, before he can stop to think about it.</p><p>“No,” Hannibal says. “Nor did he love me. Ours was a carnal affair. Exactly the kind two young, handsome men would share.”</p><p>Without warning, Hannibal leans down and presses a kiss into Will’s hair, his hands growing still. He lifts his head and whispers, “Why don’t you touch yourself now? Hmm?”</p><p>Will lies there in the water, eyes open, the tender kiss stabbing a hole into his ballooning jealousy but not a big enough one. “You may have ruined my mood,” he says, his tone starkly different from Hannibal’s sensuous murmur.</p><p>Hannibal gets up from his stool and moves to Will’s right side, looking at him with a light smile. He leans down, caressing Will’s left cheek, and kisses him like he wants Will to feel how much Hannibal desires him. He looks right into Will’s eyes, close enough they can feel each other’s breath.</p><p>“You could never live in anyone’s shadow, Will,” Hannibal tells him. “Not to me.”</p><p>He rubs his thumb into Will’s cheek, and Will looks up at him, somewhat placated. Will finds Hannibal’s other hand where it curls around the rim of the tub and brushes over Hannibal’s knuckles with his own thumb.</p><p>“Jealousy isn’t arousing, Hannibal,” Will says, gripping Hannibal’s forearm with bruising strength.</p><p>“I must disagree,” Hannibal replies, still leaning over Will with an affable expression. “But I did not intend to make you jealous. I was only sharing another part of myself with you.”</p><p>He drags his hand down from Will’s cheek to his neck, rustling the water, thumb moving over the hollow of Will’s throat.   </p><p>“How many men have you been with?” Will says.</p><p>“A few,” says Hannibal. “There have been many more women.”</p><p>“Because you like fucking them more?”</p><p>“Because they’re more available.”</p><p>Will suddenly wonders if Hannibal would’ve made a move on him when they were first getting to know each other, before Will’s stint in BSHCI, if Will had given him reason to think he was interested. Or was Hannibal’s fascination with him then not yet attraction, affection, and love?</p><p>Will draws in a sharp breath as the epiphany hits him, his jealousy and possessiveness evaporating.</p><p>Hannibal’s still looking at him with glowing adoration, hand now pressed to Will’s heart under the sudsy water. “What did you see?” he says.</p><p>Will looks up at him in wonder. “You only want me sexually because you love me,” he says. “Not the other way around.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles at him indulgently. “Did I not make that clear in the yard, with my extensive explanations?”</p><p>“You did, I just—” Will doesn’t even try finishing, just reaches up with both hands to pull Hannibal down by the neck, into a kiss.</p><p>Hannibal snakes his hand down lower into the water, leaving Will’s heart and gliding down Will’s chest and around his left side, clutching at his flesh.</p><p>When their lips part again, Will is breathless, almost swooning with the realization of just how Hannibal’s feelings for him work. They’re really not so different than Will’s feelings for Hannibal, despite the differences in their sexual natures.  </p><p>“Do you want me to stay or leave and let you finish your soak in peace?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“Stay,” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal returns to his stool behind Will and sinks his fingers back into Will’s hair. Tugging at the curls just a little, kneading into the scalp. Will muffles a groan at the sensations. He drops his right hand into the water, which Hannibal must notice.</p><p>“Tell me about the night we killed Dolarhyde,” says Will, his voice lower.</p><p>“You were glorious,” Hannibal says, almost growling in the back of his throat, his voice dripping with pleasure. “The way you moved, the way you fought him, rising above your pain. Never allowing fear to overwhelm you, the way most people would. He underestimated you, and you proved yourself a fearsome animal in your own right.”</p><p>Will grips his already hardening member in his hand and begins to coax it into a full erection, the water barely sloshing in response. He closes his eyes and returns to that night, to the minutes the felt like a lifetime stretched out before him and through him in vivid color, smell, sound, and sense. The shock of the short knife plunging into his cheek, the burst of pain that blinded him and turned his stomach as Dolarhyde raised him off his feet, the taste of his own blood pouring into his mouth, the blade cutting his tongue. That first stab he gave Dolarhyde, the blood on his skin and shirt hot but his body chilled.</p><p>“In the darkness of night, you covered in blood, determined to fight to the death,” Hannibal says, his face now bent to Will’s head. “Beautiful. Unforgettable.”</p><p>Will starts to pump himself, his skin prickling now, the muscles in his abdomen already beginning to clench. He remembers the way Hannibal attacked Dolarhyde to lead him away, somehow finding the strength and the grit to fight despite his bullet wound. The searing, pulsing pain of the blade stuck in Will’s bad shoulder, the way it felt to pull the knife out himself, the rush of feeling when he watched Dolarhyde close in on Hannibal.</p><p>“You couldn’t let him kill me,” says Hannibal. “Just as I couldn’t let him kill you.”</p><p>He suddenly takes his left hand out of Will’s curls and slides it down into the bathwater, over Will’s chest. He rubs at Will’s left pectoral, and Will arches into the touch just a little. Hannibal scratches at Will’s scalp with his right hand, pulls Will’s head to the side, and kisses the left side of his neck. Will holds back a moan, stroking himself at a steady pace with his eyes shut.</p><p>“Hannibal,” he whispers. “Keep going.”</p><p>“You and I cutting him together,” says Hannibal, kissing and nipping at Will’s neck. “Blood in the air. The look we shared. That look—when I saw in your eyes your desire, your decision to finish him with me. I will always remember your face in that moment. Skin stained red, your eyes as clear as the sky. Sure of yourself. I loved you more in that moment than I ever had before.”</p><p>Will sucks in a sharp breath, pleasure building through his groin, clenching his muscles more. He bends his left arm to clutch Hannibal’s shoulder where it hooks over the lip of the tub. Hannibal rubs at Will’s chest, kisses his neck again, kisses the hinge of his jaw.</p><p>“The moment we overcame him,” says Hannibal, whispering in Will’s ear. “When I leapt on his back to open him to your death blow…. Watching you cut him from hip to hip, like you’d done it a thousand times before…. Orgasmic.”</p><p>Will whimpers, his cock twitching in his hand. He claws his fingers into Hannibal’s shoulder and presses his head against Hannibal’s as the other man sucks on his neck. He relives that moment with perfect clarity: ripping through Dolarhyde’s guts with the knife, seeing Hannibal tear Dolarhyde’s throat out with his teeth. The blood pouring out of Dolarhyde’s belly and spraying Will’s torso. The exhilarating power and triumph, the electrifying moment of connection with Hannibal that eclipsed Will’s pain.</p><p>“You were perfect,” Hannibal tells him, nosing into Will’s curls, kissing his temple. “We were perfect, Will.”</p><p>Will’s rubbing himself faster now, breathing faster too, his chest heaving in the water.</p><p>“The way you looked when you reached out for me,” says Hannibal, eyes fluttered closed now, right hand moving from Will’s scalp to slink down Will’s right arm. “Your hands grasping at me, the way I always dreamed they would.”</p><p>Will makes short, little noises as his orgasm begins to rise like a cresting wave in the sea. His fingers dig hard into Hannibal’s shoulder.</p><p>“What I saw in your eyes when you told me what we’d done was beautiful,” Hannibal says, his voice that of a devout man in reverent prayer. “I could’ve kissed you then.”</p><p>Will pants loud and hard, seeing Hannibal’s face in that moment on the bluff, when Will finally understood everything he’d been denying himself, when he stopped resisting the current of Hannibal’s love. “Hannibal,” Will says, his voice desperate, his hand pumping furiously at his cock in the water. “Hannibal.”</p><p>The older man dips and turns his head to kiss Will’s throat, moves his right hand back up Will’s arm and covers Will’s bad shoulder. “When you embraced me,” he says. “Let me embrace you. There was nothing more for me to chase in this life. I knew the ecstasy I could never find before, not even in killing.”</p><p>Will tilts his head up and presses it into Hannibal’s shoulder, as the wave of his orgasm begins to fall. “Oh, fuck,” he whines.</p><p>Without warning, Hannibal starts to rub at Will’s left nipple, and Will arches up and forward with a shout. He sinks back down, eyes opening and closing as he moans through his orgasm, releasing his seed into the water. He doesn’t stop stroking himself, and Hannibal continues to work Will’s nipple with a gentle thumb.</p><p>“Please,” Will gasps. “Hannibal. I want to see you.”</p><p>Hannibal kneels at Will’s left side, their eyes meeting, and Will pulls Hannibal’s face to him with his left hand, crushing their lips together. Will keeps pumping his cock, earning orgasm aftershocks that leave him breathing hard and whimpering against Hannibal’s mouth.</p><p>When Will’s body finally has no more pleasure to give, he lets go of himself and relaxes back into the tub, breaking his and Hannibal’s kiss. He lies still in the water, a little dazed. Jacking off has never felt that good before, and Will has done it plenty in his life.</p><p>Hannibal gives him a smug, self-satisfied grin. Will huffs into a laugh.</p><p>Hannibal stands up and says, “I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.”</p><p>When Will finally emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, he’s shy again and a little self-conscious, apprehensive about how he’ll find Hannibal waiting. The older man’s sitting on his side of the bed, no longer wearing his robe, naked from the waist up. His lower half is hidden under the sheet and blanket, and for a second, Will wonders if Hannibal got himself off while Will recovered in the bathroom.</p><p>“I’d say it’s your turn now,” Will tells him, reaching the foot of their bed. All he’s wearing is a clean pair of boxer briefs.  </p><p>“If you’ll indulge me,” says Hannibal.</p><p>“I know I have a history of being selfish in our relationship, but I am not a selfish lover, Hannibal.”</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes sparkle at the word lover, and in the back of his mind, Will wonders at his use of it. It’s one thing to call Hannibal his husband, his partner. It’s something else to call them lovers.</p><p>“You going to join me in bed or stand there and watch?” Hannibal says.</p><p>Will moves to his side of the bed and slips in. “Where do you want me?”</p><p>“Preferably everywhere.”</p><p>Will scoffs and smiles, rolling his eyes. God only knows if he was into penetrative sex, he and Hannibal would fuck each other on every compatible surface of this house. He blushes a little at the images that come to mind.</p><p>“Why don’t I sit behind you?” Will says.</p><p>Hannibal moves away from the headboard to give Will space, and they settle into a position where Will sits with his back against the pillows and headboard, knees bent, Hannibal reclining between his legs with his head on Will’s chest. Will encircles his arms around Hannibal’s torso, holding him in place, holding him flush against Will’s own clean, bare skin.</p><p>Hannibal goes to work on himself, and Will, already deeply relaxed, closes his eyes and holds him. Hannibal’s warm, heavy weight soothes Will, and he finds himself in his own memory palace, as far away from the bloody consummation of his and Hannibal’s love as possible. He’s in the Norman Chapel again, lighting votive candles with Hannibal, his wedding band glinting gold in the firelight.</p><p>It only takes a few minutes for Hannibal’s breathing to grow labored and quick. He’s got his left arm hooked around Will’s left leg. Will can feel every twitch and clench of muscle all through Hannibal’s body. He can feel Hannibal’s heart racing in his chest. The Hannibal in his mind is perfectly composed, sitting next to him in the front row of the chapel, as the two of them look at the altar.</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal says, voice breathy and quiet. “Where are you?”</p><p>“Our other Palermo,” says Will. “In Italy.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles, stroking himself faster. He raises his hand to grip Will’s knee.  </p><p>Will lingers in the Norman Chapel a little longer, feeling the peace he’s always wanted washing over him. Peace, not of god but of himself. The peace of being on the same side as Hannibal.</p><p>Will opens his eyes and glances down at Hannibal fisting his cock under the sheet and blanket, wondering briefly at the strange choice of modesty.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal gasps, his body hot against Will’s. “You,” he replies. “With another man’s blood in your mouth.”</p><p>A memory flashes through Will’s mind, just for a split second. Sitting at Mason Verger’s table, biting a chunk out of Cordell’s face, the fond smile Hannibal gave him for doing so. He lets it go, not wanting to dwell on that dark time.</p><p>“Imagine if I took you into my mouth,” Will says. “With the blood still in it.”</p><p>Hannibal’s breath hitches, and Will feels his muscles tense all through his torso.</p><p>“Are you close?” says Will, a few minutes later.</p><p>Hannibal’s breathing is becoming more erratic.       </p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal says, his voice raw and unsteady.</p><p>Will reaches down and starts to rub Hannibal’s belly, careful not to get in his way. He feels the fine hair there, the muscles taut under the slightest layer of fat. Hannibal moans softly at that, squeezing Will’s knee so hard that it might bruise.</p><p>The peace Will felt in his imaginary Norman Chapel gives way to a blossoming of emotion that blindsides him with its intensity and sharpness. Somehow, he knows that Hannibal is showing him a degree of trust and vulnerability right now that he has never shown anyone else, though he has had sex with a number of people in his life. They’re not looking at each other, but Will feels connected to Hannibal in that same profound way he felt the night they killed Dolarhyde and when they exchanged vows in the Buenos Aires Metropolitan Cathedral. They’re breathing together, their rhythms different but harmonious. Will can sense what's happening in Hannibal’s body so acutely that he can feel the other man’s orgasm building.</p><p>Hannibal suddenly shifts against Will to lay his head back on Will’s shoulder, and Will spreads his legs wider to accommodate him. Hannibal takes his free hand from Will’s knee, finds Will’s hand on his chest, moves it over his own heart and holds it there. Will’s eyes sting, and his throat painfully constricts in response, feeling Hannibal’s heart throbbing into his palm.</p><p>Hannibal takes two razor thin, gasping breaths, and Will realizes he’s about to orgasm right before it begins. Hannibal’s body rises as far as Will lets it, no more than an inch or two, and he starts to tremble all over, silent as if he’s holding his breath.</p><p>“Moan for me,” Will whispers, holding his hand still against Hannibal’s belly now as he feels the muscles there constrict with Hannibal’s unraveling.</p><p>Hannibal moans Will’s name, and it almost sounds like a sob, tinged with longing and melancholy. “<em>Deus, eu te amo. Eu sempre vou te amar. Meu único amigo de verdade</em>.”</p><p>Will closes his eyes, cheek against Hannibal’s head, not understanding the words beyond <em>I love you</em> and <em>friend.</em> He allows the torrent of emotion to sweep through him and doesn’t move or speak until Hannibal’s orgasm finally tapers off, leaving the older man’s body going slack against Will’s. Breath slowly returning to normal. Hannibal wipes his right hand on the bed before covering Will’s where it remains on his belly and folding his fingers into Will’s.   </p><p>Will opens his eyes and kisses Hannibal’s head. “I love you too,” he says.</p><p>Then, after a minute: “What language was that?”</p><p>“Portuguese,” says Hannibal.</p><p>“I’m starting to think you know every European language there is.”</p><p>“Portuguese is a beautiful language. Worth knowing. One day, I’d like to take you to Lisbon. One of my favorite cities in Europe. Perhaps the world.”</p><p>“Maybe we could live there,” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal turns his face toward him, wearing a brilliant smile. “Already tired of Buenos Aires?”</p><p>“No. I just don’t imagine we’ll be here forever.”</p><p>“No, I imagine not.”</p><p>They lapse into silence for a little bit, neither one of them in a hurry to break out of their intimate pose.</p><p>“You called me your friend,” Will says.</p><p>“My one, true friend,” says Hannibal.</p><p>Will doesn’t know why that’s so touching in this context, given it’s not a romantic sentiment, but he is moved by it anyway.  </p><p>“So,” he says, eventually. “Was it good for you?”</p><p>Hannibal actually chuckles a little at that, and Will breaks into a smile, always giddy to make Hannibal laugh.</p><p>“It was more meaningful and gratifying than all the other sex I’ve had in my life,” Hannibal says.</p><p>“That’s a grandiose statement,” Will replies, feeling flushed with delight.</p><p>“It’s also the truth.”</p><p>They fall asleep on their sides, Hannibal curled around Will’s back and holding him close.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations: </p><p>Aš tave myliu - I love you (Lithuanian)</p><p>Deus, eu te amo. Eu sempre vou te amar. Meu único amigo de verdade. - God, I love you. I will always love you. My one, true friend. (Portuguese)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Breaking up this part and the next into two, then this fic should be done. </p><p>Please drop me a review if you like the fic!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In November, on a mild spring day, Hannibal shows Will the Recoleta Cemetery. It is almost a year since they killed Dolarhyde and toppled together from Hannibal’s bluff into the frigid Atlantic. The impending anniversary looms in both their minds, even as the southern hemisphere warms toward summer and prevents them from feeling too much like they’re coming back around to where they began. Will doesn’t ask Hannibal if their overdue visit to the Recoleta Cemetery is an observation of the anniversary. He knows as soon as they step through the main gate that it isn’t.</p><p>“This has always been one of my favorite places in Buenos Aires,” Hannibal says, as they start down a row of graves.</p><p>“Of course it is,” says Will.</p><p>The Recoleta Cemetery is unique and aesthetically pleasing enough to be considered a tourist destination, and on any given day, the grounds receive plenty of visitors who have no connection to anyone buried here. Many of Argentina’s historically famous citizens were laid to rest in Recoleta, including Eva Peron. The cemetery sits on fourteen acres of land and contains almost five thousand above-ground vaults packed together in a well-kept maze. Recoleta’s design makes it feel like a small city of the dead, its main walkways lined with trees splitting off into smaller paths that cut through more grave rows. Many of the mausoleums are decorated with statues, often of angels or the Virgin Mary, and most of the vaults were constructed out of marble, metal, or polished granite. The sculptures are worthy of any European city, though maybe Hannibal would disagree they live up to Florentine standards.</p><p>Will and Hannibal walk side by side without touching, slowing or stopping to admire the most impressive statues. This place doesn’t feel like any graveyard Will’s ever been in. There is no darkness or sorrow in the air. Only a pleasant peace. It’s almost easy to forget that the vaults they pass by contain the dead, despite the many plaques engraved with names and dates.     </p><p>“When did you know you were in love with me?” Will says, once they’re alone on one of the narrow, minor walkways.</p><p>The hint of a smile touches Hannibal’s lips. “I’m not sure, honestly. I knew I loved you as a friend before I understood my feelings for you as potentially romantic. It is hard for me to pinpoint when exactly I knew I loved you in friendship too.”</p><p>“Friendship. I never had a friend before you that made me feel the way you always did.”</p><p>“How did I make you feel? In those early days?”</p><p>“Seen,” says Will. “Safe. Which is ironic, considering everything that transpired between us. Everything you did.”</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t bristle. They can acknowledge all the destructive things they did to each other in the past now without any bitterness or resentment. Will has come to understand that Hannibal’s drive to save himself made him resort to extreme measures when Will was on the brink of exposing him as the Ripper. He has to at least admit that any animal, Will included, would do whatever it took to survive and stay free. No matter how cruel or crazy.  </p><p>“You were safe with me in the ways that mattered most,” Hannibal says. “Safe enough to reveal your darkest feelings, impulses, and desires without fearing judgment or rejection. That was always real, Will.”</p><p>“Before you, every friend I ever had was someone I kept at arm’s length. Emotionally and mentally. I used to think I did that because getting close to people meant empathizing with them. Too easy to lose myself, confuse myself with other people.”</p><p>“But that wasn’t the real reason. At least not when I met you.”</p><p>“No, it wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, I stopped being afraid of losing myself in others and started being afraid of discovery.”</p><p>“You were afraid of yourself,” says Hannibal. “And you believed others would be too.”</p><p>Will gives a curt nod and melancholic smile. “But I never thought you would be afraid of me. Of my darkness. Somehow, I knew. I knew you wouldn’t recoil at the truth.”</p><p>“You have good instincts.”</p><p>They stop to look a grave that’s starkly different from most of the others in the cemetery: a life-size statue of a young woman in green bronze stands in a planter outside the stone and glass tomb. The woman’s hand rests on the head of a dog statue, the dog with its golden nose and red, painted collar. The woman is wearing a long dress, and people have wound rosaries through her left hand.</p><p>Will’s throat tightens, and his eyes suddenly sting. Hannibal feels the shift in Will’s emotions and glances at him, as they stand before the statues.</p><p>“Her name was Liliana Crociati de Szaszak,” says Hannibal. “She was only twenty-seven when an avalanche killed her in Austria. Her grave is one of the most unique in the whole cemetery.”</p><p>Will swallows, looking into the statue’s face. “She reminds me of Abigail,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal suspected as much. He lays his hand lightly against the small of Will’s back and looks at Liliana’s statue along with him, his own sad wistfulness for Abigail passing through him.</p><p>They stand there looking at Liliana and her dog until Will can stand it no more and leads them away.</p><p>“There must’ve been some specific moment when you became aware you loved me,” says Will, after a few silent minutes of walking. “Even as a friend.”</p><p>“It may well have been when I feared Tobias Budge had killed you,” Hannibal replies.</p><p>Will stops in his tracks, looking at the other man in amazement. “Really? That soon after we met?”</p><p>Hannibal, who has stopped along with Will, doesn’t quite shrug. “It came as a surprise to me that day how relieved I was to see you alive in my office. I hadn’t felt that glad of someone else’s survival in a long time.”</p><p>Will smiles a little. “I was worried about you on the way to your office, once I heard Budge had come for you. And I felt bad when I saw how hurt you were. As if I was the one who’d hurt you.”</p><p>Hannibal starts moving again, and Will falls into step beside him.</p><p>“Did you ever feel love for me consciously before the night of our becoming?” Hannibal says. There is a delicacy in his voice when he asks the question that lets Will know he cares more about the answer than he would admit.</p><p>“Love is what propelled me to sail to Italy to find you,” says Will. “I don’t know if I called the feeling that at the time. I just knew I missed you. I couldn’t move on with my life after the way you left. Not because I was afraid you’d come back and kill me. I just—I couldn’t let things end between us with that night in your kitchen.”</p><p>“By the time you found me, you were ready to kill me.”</p><p>Will shakes his head. “I didn’t know what else to do. You were with Bedelia, and I was alone. Jack was there—and you know how he can get into my head. I couldn’t bear the thought of going home without you, didn’t want to see you captured, knew I couldn’t save you all on my own. You didn’t exactly give me any reason to think you’d want to run away from Florence with me.”</p><p>“You didn’t give me time to suggest it,” Hannibal says.</p><p>Will smiles briefly, watching his feet move on the path. “Would you have? You tried to saw my head open.”</p><p>“After you gave me the impression you intended to kill me. I could have disappeared and left you alive in my apartment, but seeing you again made me feel as though Bedelia was right. The only way I could move on from you was to kill you and eat you.”</p><p>Will scoffs into an open-mouthed grin. “Fucking Bedelia,” he says.</p><p>“It might have been her suggestion, but it was my decision,” Hannibal replies. “I take full responsibility for my actions, Will.”</p><p>“You should. But you and I both know the power of influence.”</p><p>“In Bedelia’s defense, she had always discouraged me from pursuing a personal relationship with you, and in Italy, she saw how difficult it was for me to forget you. I don’t believe she bore you ill will at the time. She simply concluded I had to do to you what I had done to so many others, if I was to have any peace.”</p><p>“Don’t defend her,” Will says, his voice bitter. “Not to me.”</p><p>Hannibal lets the thread drop, strolling at Will’s side quietly for a couple minutes.</p><p>“A part of me will always wish we had reconciled in Florence,” Will tells Hannibal. “Hell, a part of me will always wish I had left with you from Baltimore, the night you asked.”</p><p>“I know,” says Hannibal. “I wish for those alternative lives too. But those tea cups are broken, Will. We drink from a different one now, whole and never broken. That should be enough. It has to be.”</p><p>Will looks over at him. “It is.”</p><p>He hooks his arm around Hannibal’s, and Hannibal smiles.  </p><p>They wander the long aisles of the cemetery for another ten minutes before Hannibal stops again. The mausoleum he brings Will to is one of the least attractive ones they’ve seen yet, without any statues or attractive designs carved into the stone. The tomb clearly holds more than one person, but the only name Will can see is that of a man.   </p><p>“Silvina Ocampo’s final resting place,” says Hannibal. “She was a tremendous poet and storyteller, one of Argentina’s best. Arguably one of Latin America’s best.”</p><p>“I’ve never heard of her,” Will says.</p><p>“She is not well-known in America. Most of the great Spanish-language writers are not.”</p><p>The two men stand shoulder to shoulder, hands in their pockets, looking over the surface of the largely underground mausoleum. They steal glances at each other without noticing.</p><p>“I revisited her poetry not long ago,” Hannibal says. “In the original Spanish, of course. So much of it made me think of you. Though I suppose most things do now.”</p><p>Will smiles at him, and Hannibal smiles back.</p><p>“Do you know any of her poems by memory?” says Will.</p><p>“Of course,” Hannibal replies. “Shall I recite one for you?”</p><p>“If you want.”  </p><p>Hannibal thinks for a long moment, looking at the graves and then at the overcast sky. When he begins to speak the poem, his voice is soft, with an almost dreamy quality to it. He takes his time, pronouncing every word perfectly, making sure each line is clear.</p><p>
  <em>“Nadie consigue pronunciar tu nombre.<br/>Sólo yo conozco la inflexión perfecta.<br/>Fáltales la ternura en que fluye<br/>y la dulzura en las consonantes.<br/>No saben distiguir el color<br/>de la nota musical exacta.<br/>Por eso yo respondo cada día<br/>inventando un nombre:<br/>azul, pájaro, brisa, luz.<br/>Palabras comunes<br/>que se pueden decir sencillamente<br/>aun sin conocerte y sin amarte.”</em>
</p><p>Will doesn’t know Spanish well enough yet to fully capture the meaning and images of the poem in his mind, the words he does recognize like pieces of a puzzle floating in water. He holds his hand out to Hannibal and says, “In English?”</p><p>Hannibal takes his hand, and they start to walk again, leaving the Ocampo mausoleum behind.</p><p>“No one can pronounce your name,” he says. “I alone know the perfect inflection./They lack the tenderness in which it flows/and the sweetness in the consonants.”</p><p>He doesn’t look at Will, his eyes on the path, but Will does his best to keep his eyes on Hannibal’s face.</p><p>“They don't know how to distinguish the color/of the exact musical note,” Hannibal continues. “That's why each day I respond/by inventing a name: blue, bird, breeze, light./Common words/that can be said simply/even without knowing you, without loving you.”</p><p>Will doesn’t respond for a few moments, waiting to be sure the poem is over and allowing the feel of it to settle over him. “It’s beautiful,” he says, quiet and serious, holding Hannibal’s hand.</p><p>“It is,” Hannibal replies. “I admire many of Silvina’s poems, but I especially appreciate that one for how well it speaks to my feelings for you.”</p><p>Will smiles softly.</p><p>They move in silence until they reach the end of the row they’re in, and Hannibal leads them around the right hand corner, back toward the cemetery’s entrance.</p><p>“Have you thought about whether you want burial or cremation?” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal gives him a sharp, saucy look. “Why do you ask? Already planning my demise?” he says.</p><p>Will rolls his eyes. “No. I’m just curious.”</p><p>“I’ve never given much thought to what becomes of my corpse once I’m finally dead. I’m sure it won’t make any difference to me then, and I always assumed I would end up disposed of by the local authorities, unless Chiyoh was still present to see to my funeral. I don’t think I have a preference. Do you?”</p><p>“I only started thinking about it recently,” Will says. “I like the idea of the sea. Being dumped there or being set on a pyre that’s cast out to sea. I don’t imagine being cremated first, then having the ashes scattered. I think I want to be given to the water whole.”</p><p>Hannibal gives Will a sidelong look full of affection.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I am utterly unsurprised,” Hannibal says. “In so many ways, you are a son of the water. Life-giving, tempestuous, deadly, and deep. And you’ve already tried to actualize your funeral preference once.”</p><p>Will ducks his head at that, color and heat rising in his cheeks. He almost drops Hannibal’s hand, then thinks better of it.</p><p>“Will, I’m only teasing,” Hannibal tells him. “Not trying to make you feel guilty.”</p><p>He squeezes Will’s hand a little, and Will appreciates the reassurance. He squeezes back after a minute.</p><p>“Perhaps I have a specific wish for my corpse after all,” Hannibal says a little later.</p><p>Will looks over at him with interest.</p><p>“I want you to eat every last part of me.”</p><p>Will scoffs. “You know I’m not going to do that.”</p><p>“Why not?” says Hannibal. “I want you to. I could even leave you a recipe. Several recipes.”</p><p>“Hannibal. I know you and I have very different opinions on the matter, but if I eat human meat at all, it is only the flesh of the malevolent, prepared by you.”</p><p>Hannibal gives Will a playful but pointed look. “Have I not been rude enough in your eyes to deserve killing and eating?”</p><p>“You have been heinous and unspeakably destructive,” says Will. “But I love you too much to eat you the way I would eat a pig.”</p><p>Hannibal does smile at that but says, “Love is just as much a legitimate reason to eat your prey as disdain. I will eat you, should you die first. Your heart, at least.”</p><p>“I know you would. Hopefully, you would also honor my wishes and release my body to the sea.”</p><p>“Now that I know it’s what you want, I promise to do as you ask, should I find myself alive after your death.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>They’re quiet for the rest of the way out of the cemetery, hand in hand. Only when they can see the main gate does Will speak what’s on his mind.</p><p>“I hope we die together,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal looks at him, and Will’s eyes meet his.</p><p>“So do I,” says Hannibal.  </p><hr/><p>Somehow, Will didn’t know prior to life in Argentina that Hannibal is an excellent dancer. He almost snorts when he finds out because of course, the man is good at dancing too. Hannibal Lecter seems to have a talent for just about everything, though he’s surprisingly modest about his impressive skill set, acting as if there’s nothing impressive about it at all.</p><p>On another one of Hannibal and Will’s high society events, a black tie dinner in a hotel ballroom, Hannibal shows off just how good he is at the tango. A man and his wife about Hannibal’s age brought their young, twenty-something year old daughter, and in response to her obvious boredom, Hannibal asks her if she knows the tango and wants to dance it with him. He leads her in the dance with expert smoothness, as if he’s been dancing it weekly for years, and the whole room watches the couple with rapt attention. Hannibal keeps the sultriness of the dance to a minimum, probably out of courtesy toward the woman’s parents more than concern for Will’s potential jealousy, and the tango ends up looking more beautiful than sexy. He and the young woman earn a round of applause when they finish, Will clapping along with the room in a mixed state of pride and envy.</p><p>“You’re a good dancer,” Will says to Hannibal in the car on their way home.</p><p>“Thank you,” says Hannibal. “I learned many ballroom dances in Europe as a young man, and dancing has made social events much more enjoyable throughout my life.”</p><p>“Did you ever dance with Bedelia? In Italy?”</p><p>Hannibal glances over at Will, trying to gauge the mood behind the question. “I did,” he says. “She was excellent at the waltz.”</p><p>The idea of Hannibal and Bedelia playing house in Florence still sets Will’s teeth on edge, even after all these years. He decides that night in the car he’s going to learn how to tango.</p><p>Will has been taking a Spanish class for months now, an evening course for adults that meets once a week. When he finds a milonga offering tango lessons for same-sex couples, he signs up right away and tells Hannibal that he switched to a Spanish class that meets twice a week. He’s not sure why he lies about the dance lessons, beyond wanting to surprise Hannibal. But once he does, he lets the lie stand.</p><p>The dance classes are strange and intimidating, at first. Will is acutely aware that he’s surrounded by gay men, students and instructors alike, most of them younger than he is or close in age. There are a few lesbian couples in the class and one female dance instructor, but the gay men vastly outnumber them. Most of the students show up coupled, and more often than not, Will ends up having to practice with an instructor, which he doesn’t mind at all. He figures that puts him at an advantage, more likely to get the dance right and get it right quickly. He’s awkward and unsure for the first several classes, but his teachers seem patient and relatively encouraging.</p><p>What rattles Will is the unmistakable sense of other men watching him with desire. Even after over a year in Buenos Aires, he’s still not used to that kind of attention from anyone but Hannibal. Here, in this milonga free of heterosexuals, the gay men and lesbians don’t hide their attraction at all—whether it is directed at their own lovers or someone else. Will admires their freedom and their sense of comfort in the space, while also feeling more self-conscious and guarded because of them.</p><p>He finds it unsettling to be touched by men, not with violence but with the intimacy of dance. Will has always craved physical affection as much as he has reviled unwanted touch, and usually, touch from strangers or even people he knows but doesn’t feel bonded with, is unwanted. The dance classes are the first time since before The Fall that anyone other than Hannibal has touched him with more familiarity than a handshake affords. After two hours of dancing in such close contact with another man, Will usually makes his trip home feeling overwhelmed and more than a little guilty. He knows the guilt is ridiculous; Hannibal wouldn’t care at all about Will dancing with other people. Yet Will feels it anyway.</p><p>Once he starts coming home from dance class sweaty, due to the increased physical exertion of practice, Will showers and changes as soon as he arrives. He tells Hannibal that the summer heat leaves him sweating through his commute home from Spanish class, a commute he makes on foot and the metro, and that he doesn’t want to be a mess at the dinner table. Hannibal clearly finds Will’s behavior peculiar but doesn’t press for any further explanation.       </p><hr/><p>Will has been meeting Paola and her dog in the park once a week for a few months, when Hannibal finally suggests they invite Paola to dinner. She shows up with her girlfriend, Denise, and the dog, Coco. The two women are dressed nicely—Paola in a colorful, sleeveless dress and Denise in an airy, white blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks—and they bring Will and Hannibal a bouquet for the table. Hannibal seems genuinely pleased by the flowers and whisks them away to put them in a vase immediately.</p><p>Will gives the women a tour of the house, which leaves them visibly impressed. He never told Paola he and Hannibal are wealthy, in part because he often forgets they are, and it only occurs to him when he sees her eyes widen a little upon stepping into the house that they live two very different lifestyles. When he shows Paola and Denise the guest bedroom, he casually mentions that should they ever need a place to crash or want to stay over after future visits, they’re more than welcome.</p><p>Once through with the tour, Will takes the women back to the sitting room and entertains them over glasses of wine, while Hannibal finishes cooking. He can’t help but notice how different Denise is from Paola physically. Where Paola is brown-skinned with long, black hair and a soft prettiness, Denise has white skin with just a hint of color, sharp facial features, dark golden hair cut into a short bob that brushes her jawline. Will would call her handsome, rather than beautiful. She’s clearly the more dominant of the two, but she gives Paola all the room the other woman needs to express herself.  </p><p>They talk in Spanish except for when Will doesn’t understand something and asks for translation. His Spanish is far better now than it was when he first met Paola, but it’s still a work in progress. Paola and Denise tell him how they met in college, what they studied, how their parents still don’t accept their lesbianism or their relationship. He tells them his parents have been gone a long time, and he has no idea what they would say about his marriage to Hannibal if they were alive.  </p><p>The menu is gourmet Italian: a goat and artichoke appetizer, a chicken and smoked potato main course featuring a cream sauce and black truffles, and a mozzarella cheesecake with blackberry sauce for dessert. Paola and Denise look awestruck throughout the whole meal, and Hannibal is visibly pleased at their effusive compliments and gratitude. He’s only cooked like this for Will since they escaped the States, and some part of him misses throwing dinner parties, no matter how small. Will’s too used to eating like a king every night to be dazzled each time.</p><p>“Did you marry here or in the United States?” Denise asks.</p><p>“Here,” Will says. “We didn’t have a wedding, we just…. signed the papers.”</p><p>“But you would’ve looked so good in a tuxedo!” says Paola. “Your husband too.”</p><p>Will chuckles and can’t deny she’s right—about Hannibal anyway.</p><p>“Argentina was the first country in Latin America to legalize gay marriage,” Denise says, sipping on her wine. “Did you know that?”</p><p>“No, actually,” he replies. “I didn’t. That’s really cool.”</p><p>He wonders if Hannibal knew, back when he was looking for a house and dreaming of living with Will in it.</p><p>“Not everyone is accepting, of course,” says Denise. “I guess that’s true everywhere.”</p><p>“I think you’re right,” Will says.</p><p>“As long as the people who don’t like us leave us alone, I’m fine,” says Paola.</p><p>Hannibal steps out into the sitting room, wearing his white apron, and says, “Dinner is served.”</p><p>Will and the women start to get up from the sofas, wine glasses in hand.  </p><p>The two couples get through at least three bottles of wine total by the time they’re finished eating. Will hasn’t kept track. Maybe Hannibal’s actually a little drunk for once because when he offers Will the last bite of his dessert and Will accepts, Hannibal scoops up the cheesecake and sauce with his fork and feeds it to Will. Paola and Denise grin at them from across the table and coo their praises in Spanish that Will doesn’t quite catch as he savors that mouthful of sweetness. He and Hannibal’s eyes catch each other as Will chews.  </p><p>“You’re a beautiful couple,” Denise says in Spanish, once they’re all lounging around the table with hot coffee. “It’s clear how much you love each other.”  </p><p>Will’s got Coco the dog in his lap, and he continues to stroke her soft fur as he meets Denise’s gaze. He blushes a little, feeling self-conscious and unsure why.</p><p>“Thank you,” says Hannibal with a genuine smile, speaking in Spanish. “You two are beautiful together too. I’m happy we’ve finally met.”</p><p>Paola picks up her glass, now less than half-full, and raises it. “To friendship and love,” she says.</p><p>Everybody else toasts along with her and finishes off their wine.</p><p>Hannibal sends the women home with breakfast for the morning and a different dessert to share, much to their surprise and delight. He watches from the doorway as Will walks Paola and Denise to their little beater car and hugs them both. Will joins him in the doorway, and the two men linger there, watching as the women pull out of the driveway and wave at them one last time, before disappearing down the road.</p><p>“They’re lovely,” Hannibal says. “We should have them over once a month.”</p><p>Will smiles at him, happy and buzzed. He kisses Hannibal, tasting coffee and blackberry sauce on his lips. “You just like showing off your cooking skills,” he murmurs.</p><p>“I do. And you like having the dog over. Nevertheless, we both enjoy the women’s company.”  </p><p>Will winds his arms around Hannibal in a warm hug, laying his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, sleepy and content.</p><hr/><p>On the way home from his tango class a few weeks later, Will gets off the metro sooner than at his usual stop, in the mood to take a longer walk. He passes by the night market nearest the house and wanders around a bit, until a bouquet of flowers on display at a flower stall catches his eye. Purple  hydrangeas and dark purple carnations. He buys the bouquet for Hannibal and carries it in the crook of his arm the rest of his way home.</p><p>He smiles as he approaches the house, seeing Hannibal’s car in the driveway and the exterior lights glowing yellow in the darkening night. He smells the flowers as he scrapes his shoes on the doormat, hoping Hannibal will like them. They’re not in the habit of performing traditional romantic gestures for each other, but ever since Paola and Denise brought them flowers, Will has been thinking about getting some for Hannibal.  </p><p>When he enters the house, he can hear the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen. He checks his watch—almost twenty after ten—and starts to head down the main corridor.</p><p>“Hannibal?” he calls out. “I’m home.”</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t answer, and when Will arrives in the kitchen, he can instantly tell the other man is upset. There’s an open bottle of red wine on the island within Hannibal’s reach, and his glass is almost empty near the stove. Will holds the flowers at his side, almost forgetting about them. Hannibal glances at him, his energy cold in a way Will hasn’t felt since before the fall.</p><p>“Is something wrong?” Will says, not knowing where else to start.</p><p>Hannibal keeps his eyes downcast on the pan he’s working. “How was Spanish class, Will?” he counters.</p><p>He raises his eyes to give Will a pointed look, and dread explodes in Will’s gut like black ink in water. Will swallows, his face hot with guilt. When he doesn’t answer, Hannibal continues.</p><p>“Our dinner tonight features the tongue of the jewelry salesman who sold us our wedding rings. I caught him with his mistress a few months ago. I thought I would do his wife a favor, while providing my husband with a good meal.”</p><p>“You killed someone?” Will says, snapping out of his wariness as incredulity and alarm crash through him. “When? Where?”</p><p>“None of that is your concern. Though I did take photographs of my work, in case you want to take notes.”</p><p>Will feels a burst of anger in his belly, hot and righteous. “What the fuck, Hannibal? We talked about this. We agreed we wouldn’t kill without each other, and we’d discuss every potential target before actually hunting him. You could’ve been seen! You could’ve been fucking caught! And that’s not even taking into account you killed somebody whose only sin was infidelity.”</p><p>Hannibal goes completely still, in a way so jarring that Will pauses and watches him. It suddenly feels like Will is in the room with a loose tiger. It’s been so long since he was even a little afraid of Hannibal, he’d almost forgotten how it felt.</p><p>“You feel entitled to morally chastise me for me actions yet make so little of betrayal,” Hannibal says, staring down into the pan that he continues to grip hard by the handle. “As if inflicting emotional pain on an undeserving person is so much better than murder.”  </p><p>“Hannibal—whatever you think is going on—”</p><p>And what does Hannibal think? Will has no idea. He just knows that Hannibal is angry with him for the first time in their post-fall relationship, truly angry, and he has to do something about it before the situation gets any worse.</p><p>Hannibal looks up at Will, the eye contact sharp and direct. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” he says. “Or were you trying to rub it in my face, to hurt me on purpose?”  </p><p>“Find out what? I haven’t done anything…”</p><p>Hannibal drops his gaze to the pan again, flipping its contents in the sizzling oil. He wears a bitter smile. “After all that talk about honesty and openness,” he says. “Not keeping secrets.”</p><p>“Hannibal—”</p><p>“I only want to know one thing,” Hannibal says, letting go of the pan handle and fixing Will in his gaze again. “Are you planning on leaving with him?”</p><p>Will is at a total loss. The sudden fragility in Hannibal’s eyes, surfacing through the icy rage, hits him in the gut like a punch. The question sucks all the air out of Will’s lungs, and he feels like he’s falling backward off the bluff again. Only this time, he’s alone.  </p><p>“Who are you talking about?” says Will, his voice hushed.</p><p>“Don’t insult me further by carrying on your charade. I smelled him on your clothes.”</p><p>Will’s brain races, trying to piece together what Hannibal has mistakenly deduced and why. All he can come up with is tango class, the sweat and scent of his instructors left on Will’s shirts. But why would that make Hannibal this upset? Surely, he can’t be suggesting….</p><p>“You think I’m cheating on you?” Will says, the notion so ridiculous that it couldn’t have been immediately apparent to him.</p><p>Hannibal blinks at him, his eyes now glassy, and his face looks so much like it did the night he killed Abigail. Shattered. “If the idea of having sex with me was so repulsive to you, you should’ve told me the truth from the beginning,” he says. “Instead of being so conventionally deceptive.”</p><p>Will steps closer to his side of the kitchen island, reaching one hand out, feeling desperate now. “Hannibal, you’re wrong. This is a huge misunderstanding.”</p><p>Hannibal switches off the stove burner and turns his back on Will.</p><p>Will rounds the island to reach him, grabbing Hannibal by the bicep just long enough to turn him. “Jesus,” he says, dragging his hands down his face. “I’m not having an affair. I swear to you. I—I’ve been taking dance lessons. I wanted to surprise you. I’ve been learning how to tango at a gay milonga. That’s why I come home on Wednesday nights looking like I’ve been to the gym. Smelling like the men I practice with.”</p><p>Hannibal just stares at Will, looking numb and devastated still.</p><p>Will looks at him with as much earnestness as he can muster, hands finding Hannibal’s arms just above the elbows. “That’s the truth. I promise. I’m not having sex with another man. I’m not leaving you.”</p><p>Hannibal lowers his eyes to the floor, not resisting or running from Will’s touch. He looks so close to crying, it’s unbearable.</p><p>Will rubs little patches of Hannibal’s arms with his thumbs, cautiously stepping forward until they’re close enough to kiss. “Hannibal,” he says. “Please believe me. I’ll do whatever you want to prove I’m telling the truth. We can go to the milonga right now, so you can see for yourself.”</p><p>Hannibal shuts his eyes and barely shakes his head.</p><p>“Please say something,” Will tells him, almost whispering. He can feel his own eyes watering, sorry to be the reason Hannibal’s in pain and terrified that Hannibal won’t believe him.</p><p>Hannibal inhales and opens his eyes to look at Will. “I believe you.”</p><p>Will exhales, the tension in his body draining swiftly. He doesn’t let go of Hannibal.</p><p>Hannibal watches Will’s face, a single tear falling down his cheek.</p><p>Will looks into Hannibal’s eyes and says, “I love you.”</p><p>Hannibal just nods.</p><p>Will takes Hannibal’s face in his hands, wiping away the tear track. “Hannibal,” he says. “I’m not leaving you for anyone else. You’re the only man I want to be with. The only person.” Will leans in even closer and whispers. “Nothing about you repulses me.”</p><p>Hannibal finally lifts his hands to rest on Will’s hips, and Will kisses him, tenderly and with imploring lips.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Will says, lips barely parted from Hannibal’s.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” Hannibal replies.</p><p>“I should’ve just told you about the damn dance class.”</p><p>“Yes, you should’ve.”</p><p>Will closes the space between their bodies and wraps his arms around Hannibal. He strokes Hannibal’s back with one hand, feeling relieved when Hannibal returns the hug. They hold each other there in the kitchen for a long time, taking comfort in each other.         </p><p>“Please tell me you didn’t make a spectacle of the body,” says Will, chin still resting on Hannibal’s shoulder.</p><p>“I made a mess,” Hannibal says. “Like an ordinary murderer.”</p><p>Will sighs and pulls back enough to look at his husband again. “Next time, just yell at me. Okay?”</p><p>“I hope there won’t be a next time.”</p><p>“Me too. But if there is.”</p><p>Will caresses Hannibal’s face, pulls his hand down the side of Hannibal’s neck, then finds the shirt button at Hannibal’s throat and opens it.</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal says.</p><p>Will can’t tell if it’s a warning or something else. “You too easily believed that I would have sex with someone else that I wouldn’t have with you,” he says.</p><p>“You already apologized. I’m not interested in sex as atonement.”</p><p>Will traces a line straight down through the hollow of Hannibal’s throat. “I want you to feel as if you’re the only one I want to do this with. Because it’s true.”</p><p>Hannibal clasps Will’s hand against his chest and gives him a gentle look. “When I told you I don’t want you going against your nature for me, I meant it,” he says.</p><p>“I’m not offering you anything I don’t genuinely want,” says Will. “Maybe we just need to do it more often.”</p><p>Hannibal brings Will’s hand up to his mouth and kisses the knuckles. “I need to finish dinner. We can talk about sex after we eat.”</p><p>He turns back around to face the stove and switches the burner on again.</p><p>Will slinks away from him, picks up the bouquet where he left it on the other side of the island and holds it up just enough to catch Hannibal’s attention.</p><p>“Are those for me?” Hannibal says, glancing at the flowers.</p><p>Will nods.</p><p>“They’re lovely. Put them in my study.”</p><p>Will finds the one and only vase they own, the same one that held Paola’s bouquet on their dining table for several days. He clips the stems of the bouquet, fills the vase with water, and takes the bouquet into Hannibal’s study, leaving it on the window sill.</p><p>After dinner, Will showers before getting into bed, still wanting to reassure Hannibal. The older man sets aside his book and reading glasses on his night table once Will joins him and turns out his light. Will turns out his own lamp, and the room is dark except for the moonlight filtering in through the long, narrow window high above the headboard. Will turns on his side to look at Hannibal, who’s lying on his back with his eyes on the ceiling. He finds Hannibal’s hand with his own and holds it. Hannibal turns his head to look at Will.</p><p>“Let me touch you,” Will says. “Let me show you how much I want you.”</p><p>Hannibal gives Will’s hand a light squeeze. “I don’t want touch between us to ever be a sacrifice for you,” he says.</p><p>Will smiles. “I’ll only touch you the way I want.”</p><p>They sit up, facing each other, Will in between Hannibal’s legs with his own legs hooked over them. Slowly, they strip each other’s t-shirts off, caressing ribs and backs as they do, their fingertips making each other shiver. They look at each other in the dark, steal kisses and plant others on each other’s bare neck and collarbone and shoulders. They run their fingers through each other’s hair, press their brows together, kiss again. Will encircles Hannibal in his arms and rests his head against the other man’s chest and shoulder, feeling him breathe, and Hannibal moves his hand down the length of Will’s spine. Will savors the feeling of safety he experiences whenever he and Hannibal touch now. He trusts the other man as he’s never trusted anyone before.  </p><p>Will raises his head again, cups the back of Hannibal’s, and looks into his eyes with so much intensity and emotion that after a while, Hannibal breaks the contact, dipping his head to kiss Will’s scarred right shoulder. They touch each other everywhere they can reach: arms, sides, chest and belly, back, shoulders, face. Hannibal runs his hands up Will’s thighs, and Will shudders at the sensation. They kiss deeply, arms around each other, until they’re breathless. Hannibal leans in to smell Will’s neck, inhaling the other man’s natural scent, then kisses the hollow of Will’s throat. Will brushes his nose into Hannibal’s hair, hooks his arms around Hannibal’s neck and presses his lips to Hannibal’s forehead.</p><p>Finally, Will lays Hannibal down on his back again and straddles him. He starts to grind his groin against the other man’s, looking down into Hannibal's eyes, and they’re already both so close to arousal, they’re fully hard after a couple minutes. Will is more confident this time than he was the first, so much less self-conscious. He rubs himself against Hannibal with his head tilted back, throat exposed, hands on Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal keeps his own hands on Will’s ass, gripping just enough to make Will feel even better. Gasps turn into groans. Hannibal spreads his legs just a little underneath Will and tries to buck up into him, closing his eyes and stretching his head back into the pillow. Will leans down to kiss and suck Hannibal’s throat. He nips at Hannibal’s jaw, and Hannibal finds his mouth in a kiss, hands sliding up from Will’s ass to rest on Will’s bare back.</p><p>Pleasure and heat build between them, until they’re both moaning in broken voices with every thrust of Will’s hips. He tries not to go too fast, wanting to draw this out. He grinds harder against Hannibal the closer he gets to orgasm, eyes fluttering open and shut, head bobbing between his shoulders until he rests his forehead down on Hannibal’s.</p><p>“I love you,” Hannibal whispers, his own breathing heavy and erratic, eyes closed.</p><p>“I love you too,” says Will. “So much.”</p><p>Then he sits up again, bracing his hands on Hannibal’s  chest, brushing his thumbs over Hannibal’s nipples. Hannibal arches up into the touch and groans, as he shoves his hands into his pillow. Will rocks his pelvis into Hannibal’s, feeling sparks of pleasure where their erections rub together.</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal gasps. “Please.”</p><p>Will grips him firmly, hands on Hannibal’s sides. “I’m gonna come,” he says. “Come with me, Hannibal.”</p><p>Hannibal grasps Will’s thighs hard enough to leave bruises and does his best to grind up against the younger man. He starts to cry out first, closing his eyes, his legs tensing. The sound he makes gets mangled in his throat.    </p><p>Will throws his head back and whines Hannibal’s name as he starts to orgasm, humping his way through it with abandon. The muscles in his abdomen clench, and he squeezes his thighs around Hannibal.  </p><p>Their voices bleed together, Will chanting “Oh god, oh fuck, Hannibal, yes, yes.” And Hannibal sobbing Will’s name until he starts babbling “Please, please, stay with me, I need you.”</p><p>Will covers Hannibal with his body again, continuing to rub his cock against Hannibal’s, chasing every last drop of pleasure. He takes Hannibal’s face in his hands, as their hips rock together in harmony, and they look at each other, panting for breath and trembling.</p><p>“I’m yours, Hannibal,” Will says. “I’m yours.”</p><p>Hannibal moves his hands to hold Will’s face in turn, eyes full of emotion, and kisses him. He moans into Will’s lips as he dry-orgasms, tears spilling down his temples, and the sensation of Hannibal’s cock pulsing again next to Will’s elicits a groan from the younger man. When they break the kiss, Will finally collapses onto Hannibal’s chest, his hips growing still. They’re both shaking a little, Hannibal’s arms coming around Will’s back, one hand holding Will’s head to his chest. They don’t move or speak until their breathing evens out, and by then, Hannibal’s petting Will’s hair.   </p><p>“Are you all right?” Hannibal says.    </p><p>“Yeah,” says Will. “Are you?”</p><p>Hannibal takes a moment, still gathering his composure. “That was good.”</p><p>Will scoffs into an open-mouthed smile. “Glad you enjoyed it.”</p><p>Hannibal takes a breath, sliding his hand down Will’s back to the small. “Thank you,” he says. “I know it may have required more effort on your part to do this without killing first.”</p><p>“The kissing and touching beforehand made it easy,” says Will, his hands tucked under Hannibal’s shoulders. “It was different than post-kill sex but just as good.”</p><p>“Don’t think you have to start initiating this more often just to please me. I really don’t need this kind of encounter with you all that often to be satisfied, Will.”</p><p>“I believe you. And I appreciate it.” Will’s quiet for a minute. “I do like making you happy, Hannibal.”</p><p>Hannibal strokes Will’s curls. “One of the many reasons I cherish you,” he says.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Silvina Ocampo poem is called "Tu Nombre."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Decided to make this 5 parts instead of 4, so one more to go! </p><p>Thank you to all of my reviewers; you've given me something to smile about in a time where I really need it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On a Thursday night in April, Will walks home from the movie theater alone, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Hannibal doesn’t care much for movies, so Will left him to his harpsichord at home and went to the theater by himself. He walked despite the distance because the autumn weather is perfect today, cool and clear with the scent of rain in the air. He enjoys that old feeling of anonymity that resurfaces when he walks in the city alone. With Hannibal, he’s someone and something bigger than himself, but when he’s alone, he’s closer to who he used to be before they met: a guy nobody would give a second look in a crowd.</p><p>It’s after nine-thirty, the streets a little quieter than they were on his way out. He’s hungry and relaxed, ready to eat whatever Hannibal’s whipping up tonight and crawl into bed with him afterward. The older man will let Will undress him if Will’s in the mood—not as a prelude to sex but as its own intimate act. The last time they went to the opera together, the pair of them in tuxedoes, they undressed each other at the end of the night in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom. Moving slowly, caressing and kissing, smelling each other, admiring each other’s beauty as if they never had before and never could again. It’s one of Will’s favorite memories now. He gets lost in it as he follows his well-known route home, not needing to make any turns for several minutes. He smiles softly at the image in his mind of he and Hannibal in the mirror, ties undone and shirts unbuttoned, Hannibal gazing at him adoringly.   </p><p>Will blinks the memory away and returns to his surroundings as he approaches another street corner. He’s not far from his neighborhood now, just a few more blocks. He passes an alley on his right, and the second it’s behind him, a strange feeling bubbles up in his gut. He slows down, stops, turns around, and peers at the alley entrance. No one’s behind him. He’s alone on this stretch of road, and there’s hardly any traffic.</p><p>Will goes back to the alley and looks into it, lingering at the edge. A woman is standing near a fire escape that leads all the way up to the roof of the building, smoking a cigarette. She’s wearing a long robe and sandals. Something about her strikes Will as troubled. Maybe it’s because she climbed all the way down to the ground for some reason, instead of just smoking right outside her window on the escape or the balcony, if she lives on the fourth or fifth floor. Will has no reason to think she needs his help, and he should just leave her alone and continue on his way home….. But his intuition tells him to approach her. His intuition is never wrong.</p><p>“Hola,” he says, when he’s still several paces away from her. He does his best to keep his voice low, to not draw the attention of people inside the building.</p><p>The woman glances at him, doesn’t answer and doesn’t move.</p><p>“Estás bien?” he says, slowly getting closer. <em>Are you okay? </em></p><p>The woman looks at him again, this time for a second longer, then away. She puffs on her cigarette. She’s young, probably in her late twenties or early thirties at most. Her long, dark hair is a bit tousled around her shoulders.   </p><p>“Me llamo Miguel,” Will tells her. <em>My name is Michael.</em> “Vivo con mi esposo no muy lejos de aquí.” <em>I live with my husband not far from here</em>.</p><p>The woman still doesn’t answer or look at him directly, but he can see and sense the slightest release of tension at the mention of his same-sex marriage. Now he’s also close enough to recognize the numb expression on the woman’s face. She might have bruises on her face, but he can’t tell yet. They could also be shadows.</p><p>“Si estás bien, te dejaré sola,” he says. <em>If you’re okay, I’ll leave you alone</em>. “Pero si necesitas ayuda, estoy aquí.” <em>But if you need help, I’m here.</em>  </p><p>He stops in front of her but maintains several feet of distance, wanting to show her he’s not here to attack her. He stands with his hands open at his sides, trying to look as a non-threatening as possible.</p><p>She doesn’t move, speak, or look at him for a long moment, and he thinks he’ll have to leave her behind without an answer.</p><p>But then, she drops her cigarette on the ground and crushes it under her heel. She gestures at him to come closer.</p><p>Will closes the distance between them slowly, and when he’s right in front of her, he can see traces of crying on her face, subtle but detectable. She wraps her arms around herself, looks him in the eye only for a couple seconds and then averts her gaze again.</p><p>“<em>Me violó</em>,” she says, so quietly that Will second guesses if he heard her correctly.</p><p>
  <em>He raped me.  </em>
</p><p>The only reason he understands the words is because Hannibal recommended he learn vocabulary relevant to crime.</p><p>“<em>Quién</em>?” Will asks the woman. <em>Who?</em></p><p>“Mi novio.” <em>My boyfriend.</em></p><p>A chill runs through Will’s body. “Está él adentro? En su apartamento?”</p><p>
  <em>Is he inside? In your apartment?</em>
</p><p>The woman nods. “Dormido.” <em>Asleep.</em></p><p>Will looks up the building, then at her again. “Cuál planta?” <em>Which floor?</em></p><p>“La cuarta.” <em>The fourth.</em></p><p>Will reaches into his pants pocket for his wallet, thumbs through the cash he always carries for emergencies, and gives the woman two hundred dollars. “Te llamaré un taxi. Consigue una cuarto de hotel para pasar la noche. No vuelvas aquí hasta mañana por la tarde. Okay?”</p><p>
  <em>I’ll call you a cab. Get a hotel room for the night. Don’t come back here until tomorrow afternoon.</em>
</p><p>The woman takes the cash, staring at him with a still-blank expression. She nods.</p><p>Will keeps the number of a local taxi service saved in his phone, and he calls it on the woman’s behalf. The cab pulls up to the curb on the street five minutes later, and Will puts the woman into the back seat, then leans into the window of the front passenger door and tells the cabbie to take her to the nearest and most comfortable hotel he knows. He takes a picture of the license plate with his phone, just in case, then taps the trunk to send the cab away.</p><p>The woman peers back at him through the rear window of the car.   </p><p>As soon as the cab disappears from view, Will’s energy shifts.</p><p>He scales the fire escape with feline stealth, hops over the side of the woman’s balcony, and slips into the apartment through the sliding glass door she left open.</p><p>There’s a light on in the little kitchen immediately to his left. The rest of the apartment is dark and quiet. Will stalks through it toward the bedroom, his skin prickling and his senses sharpening. He moves as quietly as he can.</p><p>The man is asleep in the bed and doesn’t stir when Will flips on the light. He has a moderately handsome face, olive skin lighter than his woman’s, his hair and goatee black. The sheet and blanket have been drawn up only to his waist, exposing his naked upper body. He’s slender, without much muscle. There’s a bit of flab to his belly. Will is probably in better physical shape, but the sleeping man is younger. The ceiling fan spins lazily above him.</p><p>Will stands there in the doorway, looking at the man and the empty space next to him in the bed. He left his gun at home, as he often does. He has his favorite, everyday carry knife in his pants pocket, a three-inch blade he sharpens regularly. He could kill the man with that, but he’d prefer to use a knife with a longer, if not bigger, blade. He must also consider the fact that the woman will return here; he can’t force her to sleep in a blood-stained bed. Will has a flexible, metallic cord coiled in his other pocket because Hannibal recommended it as secondary weapon. Trying to strangle the man with the cord while he’s lying down would be awkward.</p><p>Will turns the light off again, listening to the soft sound of the man breathing and the ceiling fan twirling. He closes his eyes and quiets his mind, summoning the stag.</p><p>When he opens his eyes, he knows exactly what he’s going to do next.</p><p>Will creeps around to the empty side of the bed and carefully climbs in. He pauses, listening and waiting to see if the man will wake. The man barely stirs. Will slowly straddles the man’s waist without sitting on him, his knees on either side of him in the mattress, hoping the man’s in a deep enough sleep to either stay entirely unconscious or assume it’s the woman on top of him. He looks down at the man, unable to see his face in the dark.</p><p>Then he sits on the man, preparing to clench his thighs around him, clasps his hands around the man’s throat, and begins to squeeze.</p><p>The man doesn’t wake up right away, but once he does, his arms flail until they land on Will’s. He wriggles underneath Will like a caught fish, trying to throw him off and pry Will’s hands from his neck. But Will throws all his strength into the strangulation, squeezing the man’s throat as if he wants to crush his windpipe. He does his best to keep his weight down on the man, keeps his body as low as possible to make it more difficult for the man to roll him over. The man’s hands find Will’s wrists, pulling at them in vain. Will listens to the man’s aborted gasps, waiting to feel him lose consciousness, for the struggling to stop. When it finally does, Will keeps his hands tight around the man’s throat, wanting to make sure the bastard’s dead. He closes his eyes and surrenders to his own power, the muscles all through his shoulders and arms taut with force, his groin tingling and his breathing steady and his skin hot. He imagines Hannibal in the room with him, touching his back, kissing his shoulder, as Will kills the man beneath him. He feels like he’s ascending to a peak he can’t describe, a psychological orgasm, something almost spiritually transcendent. The Hannibal in his mind sits behind him, presses up against Will’s back with his chin on Will’s shoulder. His hands slide down Will’s arms and cover Will’s hands, fingers settling in between Will’s. They choke the man together.  </p><p>Will opens his eyes with an exhale that sounds loud and sexual. The man has long since stopped moving. Will searches for a pulse in the throat and doesn’t find one. He finally lets go and gets his feet back on the floor. His legs feel weak beneath him, and he’s suddenly unnerved. A sense of surrealism overtakes him for several seconds as he stands there, his back to the dead man in the dark. He’s never hunted and killed alone before….</p><p>He doesn’t turn the light on again. He leaves the room, takes out his phone, and dials his husband.</p><p>Hannibal answers after two rings. “Buenas noches, mi príncipe oscuro.” <em>Good evening, my dark prince.</em></p><p>“Ha-Hannibal?” Will says. His voice sounds strange and shaky to his own ears, unbearably loud in the otherwise silent apartment.  </p><p>“Will?” Hannibal’s immediately alarmed. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“I—I need your help. I was impulsive. I’m sorry, I just—I had to do it.”</p><p>“Will. I need you to tell me where you are.”</p><p>Will blinks and looks around at the apartment. The double doors to the balcony are still wide open, and he can see, hear, and smell the rain that must’ve started coming down while he was in the bedroom. He goes back outside and squints at the mouth of the alley, trying to remember the cross streets he gave to the taxi company.  </p><p>“Will?” says Hannibal on the phone, urgency in his tone.</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Will says, stepping back inside. “I’ll check my location on my phone and text you the cross streets.”</p><p>“Are you in immediate danger?”</p><p>“No. I’m alone.”</p><p>“How far from home are you?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“Not far if you’re driving.”</p><p>“All right. Send me your location as soon as we hang up. I’ll be right there.”</p><p>“Okay,” Will says, already feeling a little calmer.</p><p>The call ends, and Will pulls up his location on his maps app again, grateful for the public WiFi in this place. He texts Hannibal the cross streets and a description of the building and alley.   </p><p>He doesn’t want to sit down or touch anything, so he just stands there near the little dining table next to the kitchen, still half-dazed as his adrenaline rush begins to dissipate. His eyes roam the apartment, until he can’t bear the sensory overload anymore or the exaggerated images of the woman being abused and violated all over the place. He shuts his eyes, starts to focus on his breathing, and waits for Hannibal.</p><p>Will’s phone vibrates in his hand, and he reads Hannibal’s text message.</p><p>
  <em>I believe I’m at the entrance of your alleyway.</em>
</p><p>Will goes out to the balcony to look and finds Hannibal’s car idling on the street, headlights switched off. He waves, and the car turns into the alley, slowly rolling to a stop directly below the fire escape. Hannibal gets out of the car and peers up at Will, and the mere sight of his face sends a flood of relief through the younger man. </p><p>Hannibal climbs up the fire escape without a word spoken between them, hopping onto the balcony with unfailing grace. He grips Will’s shoulders in his hands, looks him in the eye.</p><p>“Show me,” he says.</p><p>Will leads Hannibal into the bedroom, and the older man takes stock of the corpse, his mild expression quintessentially Hannibal. With the light back on, Will doesn’t want to look at the corpse for some mysterious reason.  </p><p>“You went out of your way to kill this one,” Hannibal says. “Did you follow him home?”</p><p>Will shakes his head. “I was walking down that street out there, and I saw a woman smoking a cigarette in the alley. She lives here too, with him. They’re a couple. He raped her.”</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes snap to Will’s.</p><p>“I gave her most of the cash I had and told her to leave for the night. He was asleep when I got here.” Will’s voice has dropped in pitch and volume. His words are thin and breathy. “I had to kill him, Hannibal. I know I broke our rules, but I couldn’t leave him alive. I couldn’t wait.”</p><p>Hannibal crosses the space between them and takes Will’s head in his hands, caressing his curls with one of them, looking into his eyes. “You don’t have to defend your actions to me. Not when it comes to this. Do you understand?”</p><p>Will nods.</p><p>“Calling me was the right thing to do,” Hannibal says. “As was sending the woman away.”</p><p>He lets Will go and turns to look at the corpse again.</p><p>“What are we going to do?” says Will.</p><p>“Take him home.”</p><p>They heave the corpse over the side of the balcony, allowing it to hit the ground with a loud and heavy <em>splat!</em> It’s late enough and wet enough outside that nobody pokes a head out of a neighboring window to investigate the noise. Will and Hannibal climb down the fire escape and lift the corpse into the trunk of Hannibal’s car, which is always empty and lined with plastic.</p><p>Hannibal drives them home at a leisurely speed, and they don’t speak until they’re about to turn onto their street.</p><p>“This changes my dinner plans,” Hannibal says, sounding unbothered.</p><p>“I don’t know if I’ll have much of an appetite after we deal with him,” says Will. “I don’t have much of one now.”</p><p>Hannibal glances at him. “One thing I will never allow, Will, is you going to bed hungry.”</p><p>Will doesn’t answer as Hannibal maneuvers the car around to back into their driveway.</p><p>“I think I’ll cook you a chowder,” Hannibal says. “It can simmer while we take care of our guest.”</p><p>This is the first time they’ve brought a target into their home—hopefully the last, Will thinks—but Hannibal acts as if he’s done it several times before. He and Will carry the rapist’s corpse into the spare full bathroom nobody ever uses and put him in the tub. Hannibal shuts the door behind them and leads Will by the hand to the kitchen. He sits Will down at the island and takes a bottle of red out of the wine cooler, pouring them each a generous glass.</p><p>“I’m going to assemble the chowder as quickly as possible,” Hannibal says, already taking vegetables out of the fridge. “You’re going to drink your wine and wait for me here. Then, we’ll get to work.”</p><p>Will sucks down a couple mouthfuls of the chilled cabernet, wanting to be drunk. He feels nauseated and crushed, the thrill he felt while choking the rapist now gone, and he doesn’t understand why.</p><p>Hannibal glances at him as he starts to chop onion on the opposite side of the island. “You’re upset but not about the fact you killed him.”</p><p>“She looked so…. defeated,” Will says. “Like he had drained the life out of her.”</p><p>“There is a good chance that was not the first time he violated her,” Hannibal replies. “But even if it was the first, the trauma must’ve been great enough to devastate her.”</p><p>Will’s eyes sting with tears, and he drinks more wine, refusing to cry.</p><p>“You’ve studied sexual crimes, even sexual murders, many times in your career,” says Hannibal. “Why does this one hurt you so much?”</p><p>Will swallows the hard, painful lump in his throat. The taste of wine is almost blood-like in his mouth. “They were a couple. He was supposed to love her. He was supposed to be the one guy on earth she could be safe around. Sexually and otherwise.”</p><p>“Will, you know that isn’t true. Statistically, a woman is far more likely to be raped and even killed by a man she knows romantically or at least personally.”</p><p>“I know,” Will says. “I know that.” He pauses, mind swimming with images of the woman. “I could feel what she felt, even if it was just for a moment. Being that afraid in your own home, the despair of thinking there’s no way out. The betrayal. The—the heartbreak.”</p><p>Hannibal stops cutting potatoes and looks right at Will, his face as calm as ever. “You know I would never hurt you or anyone else in that way. The idea is indescribably vulgar to me.”</p><p>Will meets Hannibal’s gaze at last, feeling like he’s been slapped. “Of course I know that. I wasn’t trying to insinuate—”</p><p>“I know you weren’t. I just wanted to remind you that you are not and will never be vulnerable to such violence in this house. Or anywhere else we go together. Even if you decided to never have sex with me again, you would be safe, and I would still love you. If I happen to lose my mind one day and attempt to assault you sexually, you have my permission to kill me.”</p><p>Will stares at his husband, eyes still glassy with unshed tears. There was a time, years ago, when he didn’t feel safe enough around Hannibal to let his guard all the way down, but now, he trusts the other man completely. He knows Hannibal views physical intimacy between them as sacred, along with Will’s trust. Not once since they fell off the bluff together has Will ever felt in danger of being physically hurt by Hannibal, let alone sexually. Maybe it should’ve taken him some time to reach that point of confidence, but it didn’t.</p><p>Will finishes his wine and watches Hannibal sauté the vegetables on the stove, the sound of the butter sizzling one of the few sounds in the house. After a few minutes, Will gets up and goes to Hannibal, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and pressing himself against Hannibal’s back. The warmth and smell of his husband soothes Will, but he doesn’t speak, afraid his voice will crack.</p><p>“I’m glad you killed him,” Hannibal says softly, rubbing a patch of Will’s arm with his thumb. “He was a deserving target.”</p><p>Will turns his head and kisses Hannibal’s neck, closes his eyes, noses at Hannibal’s hair.</p><p>“I know it may be difficult to speak, given the emotions you’re currently experiencing. But don’t pull away from me, Will. Don’t go inside yourself to hide.”</p><p>Will suddenly remembers Hannibal telling him the same thing the night he killed Randall Tier and brought Hannibal the body. He remembers the way Hannibal cleaned and dresses his raw knuckles with a gentle kindness that softened Will’s heart toward him. “I’ll stay with you,” he says, almost whispering into Hannibal’s ear. “I’ll always stay with you.”</p><p>Once the chowder is set to simmer on the stove, Hannibal and Will return to the corpse with a set of their butchering knives and a plastic tarp for the bathroom floor. They strip down to their underwear, and Hannibal unclothes the corpse. He chops off the dead man’s head first with a ridiculously large cleaver that Will teased him about when he first saw it. The head is immediately bagged and set aside. Hannibal asks Will if he wants to take the limbs himself, and Will nods, trading places with Hannibal in the tub. Blood from the neck already pools at the bottom of the tub, and Will steps in it without caring if it stains his skin for days. He takes off the arms first, with Hannibal’s help. The legs come off in two parts: below the knee and close to the hip joints. When Will stands over the torso, the blood almost reaches his ankles, the smell of it filling the bathroom. He’s got blood all over his hands, droplets of it on his face and neck and chest. He castrates the torso and cuts off the shriveled member last, dropping those pieces onto the floor himself with disgust.</p><p>Hannibal’s got the limbs wrapped tight in plastic. He collects the genitals in a bag. The plastic tarp underneath his feet is streaked with blood.</p><p>Will looks at him. “You taking organs?” he says.</p><p>“Would you eat them if I did?” says Hannibal.</p><p>Will glares at the torso again. “No. But I’d like some bacon.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles. “If it’s bacon you want, bacon you shall have, dear Will.”</p><p>“Cut out his heart,” Will says. “He doesn’t deserve to keep it.”</p><p>Hannibal cuts the bacon from the corpse’s back and sets it carefully aside. He opens up the chest just enough to reach in under the rib cage and rip the heart loose. He hefts the organ in his hand, examining it, and says, “If only we could feed this to that poor woman. I know just the recipe for it.”</p><p>“I’m going to burn it,” Will replies. “Until it’s black.”</p><p>They bag the heart, turn the shower head on to wash away all the blood in the tub, wrap the clean torso in plastic, then wash themselves of the blood just enough not to trail it through the house. They bring all the pieces of the corpse to the kitchen and stuff them in the almost empty extra freezer. Tomorrow, they’ll take the corpse to their land outside the city and bury it.</p><p>Will feels better now that the dead man’s been taken apart. He’s also tired and hungry, emotionally drained.</p><p>“Go take a hot shower,” Hannibal tells him. “I’ll finish cleaning up the bathroom.”</p><p>“The deep clean can wait until tomorrow,” says Will. “Just take out the tarp. Meet me in the shower.”</p><p>Hannibal does just that. By the time he reaches the master bathroom, there’s already steam coming from the shower and condensation fogging up the glass. He takes off his boxer briefs and steps in with Will, who’s just standing still in the water, his curls plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck. He’s got his eyes closed and doesn’t open them until Hannibal reaches him.</p><p>The older man slides behind him and circles his arms around Will’s waist, resting his head on the back of Will’s shoulder. Will doesn’t move until Hannibal moves him, turning him around so they face each other. Hannibal searches Will’s face, and Will can feel the tears slipping away from him, blending in with the water on his cheeks. Hannibal kisses the trails those tears leave, takes Will’s face in his hands and kisses Will’s eyelids once the younger man shuts his eyes. He pulls Will into his arms, and Will returns the embrace, holding onto Hannibal like the man is the only thing right with the world. Hannibal strokes Will’s back tenderly in the spray.</p><p>“My lion-hearted lamb,” he murmurs. “You weep more than god ever has.”</p><p>They wash each other until their skin is pink with heat and spotless, the soap suds disappearing down the drain with whatever microscopic specks of blood that remained after rinsing off in the other bathroom. They shampoo each other’s hair. Hannibal kisses Will’s throat when Will tips his head back to let the water run through his curls. Will presses a kiss to Hannibal’s lips as the shampoo foam slips down his back.     </p><p>“I’ve wept for you before,” Will whispers.</p><p>“And I you,” Hannibal tells him.  </p><p>That night, Will dreams of the woman in the alley. She bears a halo of fire, and there is no grief in her eyes.  </p><hr/><p>Hannibal cancels all of his appointments the next day, Friday. In the morning, he and Will take the rapist’s butchered body to their country property and bury it in an unmarked grave. After lunch in the city, they pack bags and drive to the shore where they keep their boat docked. They sail out onto the Rio de le Plata until Buenos Aires fades from view behind them, stopping before they can see the coast of Uruguay on the other side. They won’t go home until Sunday night. </p><p>Saturday morning, Will stands on the starboard side of the boat, looking at the water stretching endlessly before him as he warms his hands around his coffee mug. He hears Hannibal before the older man steps up behind him and wraps his arms around Will’s waist. Will shuts his eyes just for a moment, letting himself feel protected and comforted by the gesture. </p><p>“What are you thinking about, dear Will?” Hannibal says.</p><p>The woman he avenged. How she must feel in her empty apartment, in the bed she used to share with her rapist. What she’ll do now that the man is gone without a trace.</p><p>When Will isn’t thinking about her, he’s haunted by images he thought he’d never committed to memory: old crime scene photos from his days as a homicide detective and FBI instructor, the bodies of women who’d been murdered and raped either before or after death.</p><p>“The darkness in the world eclipses the darkness in me,” Will says.</p><p>Hannibal smiles. “Yes,” he replies.</p><p>“Most people would argue other men’s crimes don’t justify my killing those men. That doing so makes me no better than them.”</p><p>“You and I both understand that ridiculous simplification of moral versus immoral behavior for what it is,” says Hannibal. “The parroting of a social code which defines justice as what takes place in a court room. That code was never about justice, only maintaining social order.”</p><p>Will is quiet, then says, “I don’t know what else to do, Hannibal. Maybe looking for bad guys who deserve to be hunted isn’t good for me, the way working for Jack wasn’t good for me, but I don’t think I can live with myself anymore if I let them go.”</p><p>“Are you expecting me to recommend you stop?”</p><p>“I’m just telling you what’s on my mind.”</p><p>Hannibal turns his face into Will’s neck and nuzzles him, holding him snugly.</p><p>Will takes a drink of coffee. This is his second cup, after the first he had with breakfast.  </p><p>“You did not go looking for that woman and the pig who hurt her,” Hannibal says. “They found their way to you. You created justice where there would be none otherwise. You can’t possibly feel guilt.”</p><p>“I don’t. I don’t feel any remorse at all for killing him. You know I don’t. What I do feel is…. painful compassion for her.”</p><p>“Do you wish you were incapable of compassion?”</p><p>Will contemplates the question. Once upon a time, he would’ve said a man like Hannibal is incapable of compassion. He would’ve explained Hannibal’s murders and manipulations as the inevitable results of human nature unfettered by compassion. But Will knows better than that now. Hannibal has always been able to feel compassion, and Will himself is one of the few recipients. Men who rape women and children feel compassionate toward dogs. Other men who abuse animals feel compassionate toward their own children. The division of human beings into categories of pure, destructive evil and pure, benevolent good has always been a myth. Will can’t explain the good and loving parts of his nature with his capacity for compassion any more than he can use that capacity to negate his dark and violent longings.</p><p>“It’s hard to imagine never feeling compassion,” Will says. “If someone like you can feel it, there’s no version of reality in which I can’t.”</p><p>“I didn’t ask if you could imagine yourself without it,” says Hannibal. “Only if you wish you couldn’t feel it.”</p><p>“I wish I could look at the ugliness of the world without feeling pain.”</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t respond, peering into the distance over Will’s shoulder. </p><p>They’re silent together for a minute, and as he stands there in Hannibal’s arms, Will is visited again by the fantasy of sailing the world together for a year, maybe longer. Living at sea that long would drive Hannibal crazy, maybe to the point of killing Will and tossing him overboard. Not a bad way to go, Will thinks.</p><p>Returning to their conversation, he says, “If I didn’t feel compassion for that woman, I wouldn’t have killed the man.”</p><p>“Your compassion for others and your ability to empathize make you who you are,” says Hannibal. “The killer and the man.”</p><p>Will would snort at the concept of a compassionate killer if he wasn’t so pensive and sad.  </p><p>They go back to their bed in the cabin, stripping off their sweaters and t-shirts to hold each other skin to skin. Will drapes himself against Hannibal’s left side, head on Hannibal’s shoulder, and Hannibal keeps his arm hooked around Will’s back, his other hand on Will’s arm that rests on Hannibal’s chest.</p><p>“If I couldn’t feel compassion for you,” Will says, after several minutes. “I wouldn’t love you.”</p><p>“Perhaps,” says Hannibal. “Or is it your love that produces compassion?”</p><p>“I don’t know. In the past, when I thought I wanted to kill you myself, I still couldn’t stand the thought of someone else torturing you. Or killing you in some grotesque, excruciating way.”</p><p>“You’re referring to Mason Verger.”</p><p>“Yes. But it was also a general feeling.”</p><p>Hannibal rubs a little spot of Will’s arm with his forefinger, savoring the other man’s weight on top of him and the warmth of their bodies together.</p><p>Will closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, curling his leg over Hannibal’s under the blanket.</p><p>“Do you want to leave Buenos Aires?” says Hannibal. “Would that make this easier for you?”</p><p>“Sadistic men and the wreckage of their cruelty are everywhere, Hannibal.”</p><p>“If the memory of the woman you saved has tainted this city for you, it may be time for us to move on.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” says Will. “I just need to let the bruise heal.”</p><p>“Of course. But if you change your mind, you must let me know.”</p><p>This was all Will wanted for their weekend on the river: the peace and quiet of escaping civilization, spending most of the day every day in bed with Hannibal, and doing his best to leave his mind behind in favor of his body. The two men haven’t had sex, nor does Will plan on it. Hannibal remains happy to indulge in the height of sensuality with him and leave sex off the table until Will signals for it. Will’s just grateful that Hannibal intuitively understands this most recent kill left him wanting consolation and intimacy, not passion.  </p><p>They’ve been in and out of bed all day, since they woke early this morning, and they’ve left only to eat and spend time on deck absorbing the sights and smells of the river. Last night, they lounged outside after dinner, Hannibal nursing a glass of wine while Will looked at the stars, reclining together on the cushioned settee. Will didn’t feel like talking much, and Hannibal didn’t try to disturb his silence, content just to lie there with his arm around Will until it grew too chilly and late to stay out.</p><p>Now, they hold onto each other in the bed that already smells like them after just one night. The milky afternoon light filters into the room through the one window above the bed, casting pale blues onto the white sheets. Will can feel Hannibal’s heart beating under his hand, and he meditates on the rhythm until his mind is quiet, drifting just like the boat on the open water.</p><p>Hannibal turns his head to kiss Will’s curls, and again, a fleeting sense of wonder passes through Will at such tenderness coexisting with unbridled violence and darkness in the same man.</p><p>Will rises off Hannibal’s shoulder and tells him to “Turn over that way.”</p><p>Hannibal obeys, rolling onto his right side away from Will.  </p><p>Will lies down again next to him, touching Hannibal’s back. He plants a few kisses across Hannibal’s shoulders, looking at the freckles dusting the skin there, then ghosts his fingertips over the large brand in the middle of Hannibal’s back.</p><p>“I hate that he marked you like this,” Will says.</p><p>“It’s a reminder of my triumph over Mason,” Hannibal replies. “You and I are still alive, and he’s dead. The thought is no less pleasant now than it was four years ago.”</p><p>Will presses himself to Hannibal’s back, tucking his arm around Hannibal’s waist, and nuzzles his nose into Hannibal’s neck and the wispy hairs at the nape. He breathes in the other man’s scent, and Hannibal hums in contentment.</p><p>“I never thanked you, did I?” says Will. “For saving me.”</p><p>“No, you didn’t,” Hannibal says. “But I didn’t feel I was owed gratitude. Technically, we both have Alana and Margot to thank.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t thank them.”</p><p>Hannibal finds Will’s hand on his chest and laces his fingers into Will’s.</p><p>They stay like that for a long time, drifting in and out of a light sleep. Will curls around Hannibal’s body, holding him close, hoping he feels just as comforted and protected in Will’s arms as Will feels in his. Hannibal doesn’t need Will’s protection or his comfort, for that matter—not now, not over what they did most recently—but Will assumes he still enjoys having it.  </p><p>“Thank you,” Will whispers, his eyes half-open. “For helping me when I needed you.”</p><p>“Always,” Hannibal says, his voice soft.</p><p>Will tucks his face into the soft skin of Hannibal’s neck where it curves into his shoulder. “I love you, Hannibal.”</p><p>“And I love you, Will.”</p><hr/><p>It’s after eleven on the following Friday night when the doorbell rings. Will and Hannibal look at each other with identical surprise and curiosity on their faces. They’re sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, Will’s socked feet in Hannibal’s lap, nursing after-dinner wine. Will checks his watch, then his phone.</p><p>The doorbell rings again.</p><p>Will gets up off the sofa and starts to head for the door, Hannibal right behind him. Dread of the U.S. authorities finally showing up for Hannibal, dormant these last few months, suddenly rears its head in Will’s gut. He has no idea what he’ll do if he finds cops on their doorstep. He has no idea what Hannibal will do.</p><p>Will hesitates when he reaches the door. Hannibal stands close behind him.</p><p>“Open it,” the older man says, sounding perfectly calm.</p><p>Will unlocks the door and pulls it open with anxiety crackling through his muscles.</p><p>It isn’t the cops or FBI agents or Interpol waiting outside but Paola and Denise. Will’s anxiety evaporates instantly, only to be replaced with shock and horror. There’s blood all over the lower half of Denise’s face, half-dried and sticky and bright. Paola’s face is swollen in places, the skin abraded and split. Blood stains the front of Denise’s shirt, and there are bruises on Paola’s neck. Paola’s crying, and Denise’s eyes are watery and bloodshot. They’re holding hands, and something about it makes them look even more desperate. </p><p>“Jesus Christ, what happened?” Will says.</p><p>“A man,” says Denise.</p><p>“Will, bring them inside,” says Hannibal. “I’ll go get my medical kit.”</p><p>He turns and disappears swiftly back down the corridor.</p><p>Will herds the women inside, leading them toward the kitchen, unsure where Hannibal will want to tend to them. He gives them cold water to drink, and Hannibal reappears with his kit, beckoning the women into the dining room. There’s already a bowl of water at the head of the table, where Hannibal sits down, and a box of tissues. Paola sits on his left, Denise on his right, and Will sits next to Paola. The ceiling lights are on, bright enough for Hannibal to see the women’s injuries clearly. </p><p>“Is there a reason you’re here instead of at the hospital?” says Hannibal, turned toward Denise. He dips a clean towel into the water bowl, wrings it out, and begins to wipe the blood off her face gently. He’s wearing a pair of disposable surgical gloves.  </p><p>“We didn’t even think about the hospital,” says Denise, her voice low and steady.</p><p>“Tell us exactly what happened.”</p><p>Paola dabs at her eyes and nose with a tissue, sniffling. Will brushes the hair away from her face. She glances at him, he meets her eyes, and he lays his hand on her back, rubbing it a little. She doesn’t flinch or recoil from his touch, so he persists.</p><p>“We went out to dinner and had drinks at a bar afterward,” Denise says. “Just the two of us. We wanted to get out of the apartment. We took the <em>subte</em> instead of our car, in case we ended the night drunk. We were just on our way back home. Not too many people were on the <em>subte</em> with us. The man who did this was alone. He started taunting us, trying to get our attention.”</p><p>Finished with cleaning Denise’s face of her blood, Hannibal rinses out the towel and sets it aside on the table. “May I touch your nose to make sure it isn’t broken?” he says to her.</p><p>She nods.</p><p>He carefully presses his fingertips onto her nose and into her cheeks around it, and she doesn’t react. “It doesn’t seem broken or fractured to me. Go on with your story, please.”</p><p>“First, the man was flirting with us, but when we ignored him, he started calling us bitches and lesbians,” Denise says. “I told him we are lesbians and to shut up. He demanded we kiss each other for him. Of course, we refused and attempted to ignore him. He wouldn’t stop harassing us and telling us to prove we’re lesbians.”</p><p>Hannibal applies antiseptic to the laceration in Denise’s upper lip, and she winces.</p><p>“He became more aggressive and angry,” she continues. “Finally, he got up and punched me. Paola slapped him for that, and he started to hit her and choke her. I got him off of her and tried to fight him, to keep him away from her. The train reached our stop then, and we left. Fortunately, he didn’t follow us.”</p><p>“No one else in your subway car tried to help you?” Will says, looking at Denise with his hand still on Paola’s back.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Hannibal picks up Denise’s hands, one by one, and looks for broken skin. Then, he takes out his pen light and checks her pupils.</p><p>“Do you have a headache?” he asks her.</p><p>“My nose hurts,” she replies. “But I don’t think my head does.”</p><p>“Good. A concussion is unlikely, then. Do any of your teeth feel loose?”</p><p>Denise pauses, maybe probing at her teeth with her tongue. She shakes her head.</p><p>“I’m surprised your assailant didn’t hit you again,” says Hannibal. “Unless he did so somewhere besides your face?”</p><p>“No, he never quite got in another punch. We were pushing and shoving each other after I pulled him off Paola. I tried my best to kick him away.”</p><p>“Smart girl. Women have more lower body strength than upper. You can cause a fair amount of pain and damage with a well-placed kick.” Hannibal stands up and leaves the room for the kitchen.</p><p>Denise looks across the table at Paola and Will. Paola isn’t crying much, but she’s still sniffing, her eyes puffy and gleaming. Will curls his arm around her, and she rests her head on his shoulder, leaning against him.</p><p>“You didn’t deserve this,” he says to both women. “I wish I could’ve been there for you. I would’ve kicked the guy’s ass.”</p><p>Hannibal returns with an ice pack he gives to Denise.</p><p>She thanks him and smiles sadly at Will. “This is why we came here instead of going home or to the hospital.”</p><p>Will rubs Paola’s arm, his cheek lightly touching the sleek black hair on her head. “I’m glad you came to us.”</p><p>“So am I,” says Hannibal. “Better for you to be around friends right now. Friends who understand the meaning of what’s happened to you.”</p><p>His eyes meet Will’s, a loaded look passing between them.</p><p>“Paola, <em>cariño</em>,” Hannibal says, his body now turned toward her. “Let me see you.”</p><p>Paola sits up, Will’s arm sliding off of her, and turns to Hannibal. Her face, though mostly bloodless, is far more mournful than Denise’s. Hannibal handles her just as gently as he did Denise, cleaning her skin with a new wet towel and disinfecting her tiny cuts and scrapes.</p><p>“You don’t have to be brave in this house,” he says to Paola, not quite looking into her eyes. “Your moment of bravery was on that subway car. Here, you can be honest about the gravity of your experience and all the emotions it conjures for you.”</p><p>Her eyes well with tears again, but she doesn’t let them fall.</p><p>Hannibal smiles. “You’re safe now. Focus on that.”</p><p>He inspects the bruising on her neck with perfect neutrality in his expression, asks her if she took blows anywhere else on the body, then gives her the other ice pack he brought from the kitchen. She presses the ice pack to one side of her neck and faces Denise, the two women still brimming with emotion as they look at each other.</p><p>“You’ll stay here tonight,” Will says. “We’ll drive you home tomorrow. If you want me to go check on Coco right now, I will.”</p><p>“Thank you but she should be all right,” Paola replies.</p><p>“Can I serve you anything?” Hannibal asks, bouncing his attention between the two women. “Hot tea, perhaps. Dessert.”</p><p>“Tea would be nice,” Denise says, looking at him again.</p><p>He stands up, and Will does too.</p><p>“I’m afraid we can only offer you some t-shirts of ours to sleep in, but you’ll find all the toiletries you need in the bathroom next to your bedroom,” Hannibal says. “Will, why don’t you take them there, and I’ll start brewing their tea?”</p><p>Later, when the women are quiet behind the closed guest room door and the men have retired to the master suite, Will speaks out loud what he couldn’t before.</p><p>“We’re going to find that son of a bitch, and we’re going to kill him.”</p><p>He’s pacing on the rug before the foot of the bed, seething with barely contained rage.</p><p>Hannibal watches him, already tucked into his side of the bed. “A foregone conclusion. The sex trafficker I showed you will have to wait.”</p><p>“How do we find him?” Will says. “Security cameras?”</p><p>Hannibal nods. “If he can be found, that will be how. I’ll see what I can do on Monday. Until then, we should concentrate on supporting the girls.”</p><p>Will doesn’t answer, his mind racing.</p><p>“Will,” says Hannibal. “Come to bed.”</p><p>The younger man finally stops, facing his husband with his hands on his hips. He’s riled up, wide awake, wishing he could go do violence right now, late hour be damned.  </p><p>Hannibal gives him an indulgent look, one that conveys: <em>I’m waiting for you and I would wait forever. </em></p><p>Will softens and relents, moving to his side of the bed and climbing in. He slots himself under Hannibal’s arm against Hannibal’s side, throwing his own arm and leg over his husband, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder.</p><p>“It’s been a stressful week for you,” says Hannibal. “I’d like to see you relax this weekend.”</p><p>“I can’t relax,” Will says. “Not until that bastard is dead.”</p><p>“I’m not asking you to let go of your anger prematurely. Just to compartmentalize it temporarily, until the pig can be dealt with.”</p><p>Will doesn’t answer, his fingers barely scraping Hannibal’s ribs in a small back-and-forth motion. He stares into space, mind washing over different thoughts without fastening to any of them, like water flowing over stones.</p><p>“Do you think I’ve been trying to make Paola a substitute for Abigail?” he says suddenly.</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t answer right away. He thinks before he answers. “Paola has nothing in common with Abigail other than being a young woman with a difficult relationship to her parents,” he says. “You could not have been drawn to her for any detectable similarity to Abigail. And your friendship with Paola, I’m sure, has blossomed because of the dynamic unique to the two of you. She does not know who you are the way Abigail did. She never will. She sees only the socially acceptable parts of you. Of us. The kind and gentle parts.”</p><p>Will stays quiet, absorbing Hannibal’s words.</p><p>“Did you never stop looking for a daughter, Will?” Hannibal says, at last.</p><p>“I’m not trying to become Paola’s father,” Will replies. “Not consciously, anyway.”</p><p>“Nor must you take that position to be her close and trusted friend.”</p><p>“I feel protective of her. And Denise. Fiercely protective.”</p><p>“The urge to protect the friends we love and cherish is a natural and universal one. It is not an exclusively parental impulse.”</p><p>Will thinks for a minute, then says, “In some bizarre alternate dimension, where you and I aren’t bound by our mutual desire to kill people, I would raise a child with you.”</p><p>He moves his head to look up at Hannibal, and Hannibal looks back at him with a warm glow in his eyes.</p><p>“Would we even be together like this if we did not share the same violent nature?” Hannibal says.</p><p>“I can’t know for sure, but I imagine we would be.” Will tucks his head down again.</p><p>“You would want a girl.”</p><p>“Yes. We would adopt her while she’s young, a toddler maybe. I would teach her how to fish and sail and steer a boat. The basics of auto mechanics. You would teach her how to cook and think and expose her to the arts. She’d grow up to be quite the impressive woman.”</p><p>Hannibal is grinning against Will’s curls. “Just one?” he says.</p><p>“Just one,” says Will. “One child to pour all of our attention into.”</p><p>“We would show her the world before she turned eighteen.”</p><p>Will hums and closes his eyes, anger finally fading and leaving tiredness in its wake. “We would give her a good life. Our alternative selves would be great fathers.”</p><p>“I believe you’re right,” says Hannibal.</p><p>Will falls asleep and does not dream of killing the mystery man from the subway. He spends a golden afternoon in his stream, watching Abigail and Paola and Denise fishing. They talk to each other easily, all of them smiling, teasing Will and showing him each fish they catch. He turns his head at the sound of a child’s laughter and sees the shape of Hannibal on land, moving away from the stream. In Hannibal’s arms, on his hip, is a small girl with a halo of soft curls.</p><p>   </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The last part is finally here! And it's long as hell. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you to everyone who left me a review already. Please let me know what you think of this last chapter if you like it!</p><p>I hope to write more Hannibal fic in the future. I absolutely adore Will and Hannibal's story and relationship, so there's a pretty good chance I'll be back with new fic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They come home late from a charity ball, gossiping about the wealthy people in attendance who they found ridiculous or repulsive or both. They’ve already had plenty of champagne, Will more than Hannibal, but they open a bottle of wine from Hannibal’s stores. They toe off their shoes at the edge of the sitting room and undo their bow ties. Hannibal starts a fire in the fireplace, as Will reclines on the sofa behind him and mocks his favorite target of the night, an older woman who was clearly perturbed by Will and Hannibal’s gay marriage.</p><p>“You will never know how much I wanted to drag you to the coat closet and make out just in time for her to find us,” says Will and laughs. “Can you imagine the look on her face? The fucking precious bigot.”   </p><p>Hannibal smirks, still bent over the fireplace as he watches the blaze come to life. He stands up to his full height and turns to Will, catching the younger man’s eyes with his own. Will’s looking at him with drunken adoration, his face rosy and his eyes glazed. </p><p>“Such acts of pettiness are beneath us, Will,” says Hannibal.</p><p>“But you would’ve played along if I’d initiated.”</p><p>“Most likely.”</p><p>Will knocks back the rest of his wine and sets the empty glass on the coffee table. “Come here,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal takes his own glass of wine from the mantle and goes to join his husband on the sofa. Will’s lying on his back and makes no move to sit up or bend his knees to give Hannibal a seat. So Hannibal gets on top of Will, knees on either side of the younger man’s hips. He sits on Will’s thighs and sips on his wine, and Will watches him with a sweet smile.</p><p>“You’re more handsome now than before we moved to Argentina, you know,” Will says.</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>“Probably because you’re happier.”</p><p>Hannibal grins, sniffing his wine before taking another drink. “That’s true.”</p><p>Will rubs Hannibal’s right knee, his other arm bent under his head. “It’s strange. I never cared about your appearance before, one way or the other. But now I enjoy it. Because it’s yours.”</p><p>“I know what you mean,” says Hannibal. “I’m glad you find me attractive.”</p><p>“How long have you found me physically attractive?”</p><p>“Hard to say. You’ve only improved with age.” Hannibal drains his wine glass and stretches to set it on the coffee table.   </p><p>He leans over Will, hands braced on either side of him, and kisses his mouth as if he’s tasting something delicious. Will hums into his lips, touching Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal caresses Will’s hair on the right side of his head, before trailing his hand down Will’s neck and undoing the first button on Will’s shirt. He kisses Will’s neck, and Will closes his eyes, parting his lips and savoring the sensation. Hannibal kisses the hollow of Will’s throat, then the patch of skin exposed by the unfastened button. He opens the next button, plants a kiss there, opens the third button, plants a kiss there. Will spreads his legs for him, eyes fluttering open and closed, firelight dancing on his face.<br/>
<br/>
“Hannibal,” he says, almost sighing the name.</p><p>Hannibal flicks the rest of his shirt buttons open, leaving the shirt tails tucked into Will’s pants. Slowly, he kisses a line down the rest of Will’s chest and belly. Will shivers when Hannibal’s lips reach the skin below his navel, his face and neck hot. Hannibal’s watching him, kissing the scar he gave Will, and Will looks down at him.</p><p>“What are you doing?” the younger man says.</p><p>“Pleasing you,” says Hannibal, unbuckling Will’s belt.</p><p>Will swallows. “I—I’ve never been a big a fan of blow jobs.”</p><p>“Then, I won’t give you one. Though I would love to try.” Hannibal starts working Will’s pants down his hips.</p><p>Will reaches for him and combs his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, cupping the back of his head as Hannibal kisses the inside of Will’s right thigh, which makes Will hiss. Hannibal inhales Will’s scent, then moves to kiss the inside of his left thigh. Will’s half-hard in his boxer briefs, but he’s not ready to permit Hannibal the experiment of blowing him.</p><p>Hannibal sits up enough to pull Will’s pants the rest of the way down his legs, taking them off and dropping them on the floor. He lies in between Will’s legs again to look into his eyes and kiss him, Will’s hands coming up to hold his head.</p><p>“Doesn’t seem right for you to stay fully dressed,” Will tells him, eyes half-lidded. He feels more intoxicated than he was earlier, almost wonders if Hannibal slipped something into his wine. He slides one hand down Hannibal’s back, resting it just above Hannibal’s waist.</p><p>Hannibal’s maroon eyes search Will’s, then he moves to straddle Will’s waist again, knees in the sofa cushions. He takes off his jacket and shirt and undershirt, throwing them on the floor. He frees himself of the belt in his pants, keeping his eyes on Will’s face. Will rests his hands on Hannibal’s thighs, and Hannibal bends down to kiss him again, fingers digging into Will’s curls. Hannibal’s tongue asks for entrance into Will’s mouth, and Will grants it, lips parting just enough for Hannibal to slip his tongue inside. Will moans into the kiss, hands now gripping Hannibal’s hips. Hannibal kisses him like Will is pleasure itself and Hannibal wants to disappear in him. Will’s hands slink around to Hannibal’s lower back, the skin as hot as Will’s. Will isn’t thinking anything at all, overwhelmed by all the sensations in his body. Hannibal pulls his mouth away from Will’s and kisses Will’s neck again, sucking it hard enough to leave a hickey. Will gasps and arches up toward him, wanting to wraps his legs around Hannibal.</p><p>“Let me touch you,” says Hannibal, breath ghosting Will’s neck. “Pleasure you.”</p><p>“Okay,” Will whispers. “But only if I can reciprocate.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles, looks at Will, and kisses his mouth again. He maneuvers his body to lie along Will’s right side and kisses Will’s jaw at the exact moment he slips his hand into Will’s boxer briefs and closes it around Will’s budding erection. Will closes his eyes, and his body tenses.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” he says softly.</p><p>It only takes a few strokes for Hannibal to bring him to full hardness. “We should take off your underwear,” he tells Will.</p><p>Will tries his best to do it one-handed, looking into Hannibal’s eyes again as the older man fondles him. Hannibal ends up pulling off the boxer briefs the rest of the way and quickly resumes his position between Will’s side and the back of the sofa. Will feels a little self-conscious, lying there exposed, but he focuses on Hannibal’s face, doing his best to let this encounter unfold naturally.</p><p>“You’re beautiful, Will,” Hannibal says, massaging Will’s cock like he’s got all the time in the world. “The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>Will blushes a little. “You don’t have to flatter me.”</p><p>“I don’t compliment you with anything other than the truth.”</p><p>Will reaches up to brush loose tendrils of hair back from Hannibal’s face, then rolls his head away from him on the arm of the sofa and shuts his eyes with pleasure. Hannibal’s erection presses into Will’s thigh but the older man doesn’t try to rub himself against Will. He just strokes Will’s cock from base to head in long, luxurious motion. Will bends his knee up, his breathing growing heavy and quick. He keeps his left hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, his right not quite touching Hannibal’s back.</p><p>“If you’ll allow me to do this again,” says Hannibal. “I’ll use oil next time. It makes for a more pleasurable experience.”</p><p>“You can do this again,” Will replies, eyes still shut.</p><p>Hannibal watches his bare chest heaving, admires his throat. “Look at me.”</p><p>Will waits a few seconds, then turns his head back toward Hannibal and opens his eyes. He grips Hannibal’s shoulder firmly enough to remind the older man of his strength. They gaze at each other in the shadows and the firelight, Hannibal watching the pleasure on Will’s face and Will seeing the love and desire in Hannibal’s. Hannibal gives Will two strong tugs and rubs his thumb over the tip of Will’s cock, and Will sucks in a breath and tilts his head back. Hannibal takes that as an invitation to kiss his throat.</p><p>“Jesus, you’re good,” says Will, voice beginning to fray at the edges. He sighs and takes his hand off Hannibal’s shoulder to grip the sofa cushion underneath him instead. “How does this feel so much better than jerking myself off?”</p><p>Hannibal brushes his nose against Will’s neck and kisses his collarbone. “You know perfectly well why it’s more pleasurable.”</p><p>He starts to pump Will’s cock a little faster, and Will begins to subtly move his hips in answer, as much as he can with one pinned under Hannibal’s weight. They smell the wood burning in the fireplace and each other’s natural scent mingled with their after shave, the combination undeniably masculine. Will closes his eyes and pants, fingers digging into the sofa, and Hannibal leans over to kiss his chest.  </p><p>“I—I have a confession to make,” Will says, swallowing.</p><p>“What’s that?” says Hannibal.</p><p>“I was so attracted to you the night I saw you save the organ harvester’s victim in the back of that ambulance.”</p><p>Hannibal blinks, taking a moment to remember what Will’s referring to. A smug smile spreads on his face and he chuckles.</p><p>“I didn’t even know it at the time,” says Will, his breath hitching. “Shit. Just like that.”</p><p>Hannibal senses Will’s orgasm building in his body, and he changes his touch, moving his hand to the base of Will’s cock and pumping his hand there without covering the rest of his length. Will flings his arm around Hannibal’s neck and pulls him close enough to press his forehead to Hannibal’s. Will’s breathing hard now, his groin beginning to tingle as heat radiates off him.</p><p>“You’re gonna make me come,” he says, closing his eyes. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>“Let go, Will,” Hannibal whispers, then presses his mouth to Will’s.</p><p>Will groans into the kiss and arches and starts to orgasm, his seed dripping onto his abs as Hannibal continues to tug hard at the base of his cock. Hannibal breaks their kiss and brings his mouth to Will’s left nipple. Will shouts as his orgasm intensifies, stretching his arms behind him to grip the sofa arm on either side of his head. Hannibal sucks on Will’s nipple gently, shifting his body just enough to grasp Will’s right shoulder with his other hand.</p><p>“<em>Jesus</em>, Hannibal,” Will whimpers, his hips jumping. “Jesus Christ.”</p><p>Hannibal laps at Will’s nipple, his tongue wet and warm on that sensitive skin. Will’s coming just as hard as he did during their previous sexual encounters, pleasure and arousal both so great he can’t think and almost wants to flee from Hannibal’s stimulation.</p><p>Even after Will stops ejaculating, his orgasm continues as Hannibal works the base of his cock, stroking down the full length every few seconds. Will’s gasping, his chest and belly heaving, his hips jerking upward.</p><p>“Fuck, I need you to kiss me,” Will says, voice like a rubber band about to snap. “Right now.”</p><p>Hannibal immediately brings his mouth to Will’s again, and they kiss, Will’s hands cupping Hannibal’s face. Will’s cock twitches in Hannibal’s hand with the last of his orgasm, and Will shuts his eyes, breathing through it. Hannibal lets go of Will’s cock and brings that hand up to caress Will’s ribs, peering into his eyes as their lips part. Will’s brow shines with the thinnest layer of perspiration. Hannibal smiles.</p><p>Will gathers him in his arms and guides him to lay his head down on Will’s shoulder, the two men chest to chest. Hannibal’s in between Will’s legs again, and Will can feel the other man’s erection, which must be almost painful now.</p><p>“God, I love you,” Will says, his pulse still fast.</p><p>Hannibal just smiles against Will’s bare skin and hums.</p><p>“That was the best hand job I’ve ever had in my life.”</p><p>“The next one will be better,” Hannibal says.</p><p>“I don’t know if I can handle better.”</p><p>“You’d be surprised what your body is capable of bearing.”</p><p>Will sighs, running one hand over Hannibal’s head and caressing his hair. “All the pleasure I feel with you is more intense than I’ve felt it with anyone else.”</p><p>“The same is true for me.”</p><p>They lie there cuddling for a couple minutes, as Will grounds himself and mentally prepares to do what he’s never done before.</p><p>“Your turn,” he says, when he’s ready.  </p><p>They sit up together reluctantly, trading grins. Will’s hair is slightly mussed, he’s still wearing his unbuttoned shirt that hangs open and nothing else, and he’s got that post-orgasm glow in his face. Hannibal is clearly proud of himself.</p><p>“I’m going to get us some water and use the bathroom,” says Will. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>He leaves the room, and Hannibal watches as he goes, admiring the younger man’s bare legs and his ass peeking out from below his shirt.</p><p>When Will returns with two glasses of water, Hannibal’s stretched out on the sofa naked, his erection curling toward his belly. The sight of him waiting like that, on display, makes Will want to avert his eyes just a little, out of a strange sense of bashfulness. He offers Hannibal the water, which the older man takes. Will empties his own glass and sets it on the coffee table.</p><p>“You want to do this here or go to bed?” he says.</p><p>“Making love in front of the fire is romantic,” Hannibal replies. “Don’t you think?”</p><p>Will smiles at him warmly, overcome with fondness. He holds out his hand, and Hannibal takes it. Will straddles Hannibal’s thighs without sitting down yet, leans over, and kisses the other man softly. Hannibal shuts his eyes, his fingers tangled with Will’s, and gasps when Will reaches between them to take hold of Hannibal’s erection. Though they’ve had sex before, this is the first time Will’s actually handled Hannibal’s cock, the first time he’s touched another man like this, and for a long moment, he just holds it in his hand to get familiar with the sensation. Hannibal is hot and hard, and Will can sense he won’t last long unless he tries to hold back.</p><p>“If I’m terrible at this, you’ll have to forgive me,” Will murmurs as he breaks their kiss.</p><p>Hannibal just looks at him like Will is life itself, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Every touch from you is a gift,” he says. “Especially this kind.”</p><p>Will almost rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself. Trust Hannibal to go overboard with the romantic declarations. “Just tell me if you want me to do something different.”</p><p>They arrange themselves on the sofa so that Will lies behind Hannibal, the two of them on their sides facing the fire. It’s a snug fit, Will’s back pressed into the sofa and Hannibal pressed into Will’s chest. Will’s got his arm around Hannibal’s waist to jack him off, and Hannibal can feel the younger man’s softened cock against his ass, which has him turned on to the point of distraction. Will hooks his top leg over Hannibal to keep him close and on the sofa, while his left arm curls up and around Hannibal’s chest as well as it can from beneath Hannibal’s side.</p><p>Will starts to stroke his husband’s cock, planting small kisses on the back of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal inhales sharply at once, gripping the sofa cushion under him. From this angle, jerking Hannibal off doesn’t feel too different from masturbating, which gives Will more confidence. He brushes his nose into Hannibal’s hair, smelling him, setting a steady pace on Hannibal’s erection.</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal sighs.</p><p>Will kisses the curve of Hannibal’s right shoulder where it meets his neck, lips lingering on the skin. He starts to lengthen his strokes to travel all the way to the head of Hannibal’s cock from the base. He opens his mouth a little to suck on Hannibal’s shoulder, feeling the other man’s body tense against his.</p><p>“Oh, Will,” Hannibal says, his eyes closed.</p><p>Will relishes the intimacy of this position, Hannibal’s vulnerability in it. There’s something delicious about holding Hannibal from behind as the older man experiences pleasure, whether by his own hand or Will’s. It feels like a demonstration of absolute trust on Hannibal’s part, like he’s seeking comfort in Will as they have sex. Will thinks about every sexual encounter they’ve had so far and how Hannibal’s reacted to each one. So far, it seems like sex with Will is emotionally intense for Hannibal, perhaps in a way sex hasn’t been for him before. He may need comfort from Will in the wake of whatever emotional unraveling he experiences when he orgasms. He hasn’t mentioned it, but Will figures he wouldn’t, given how contradictory wanting comfort is to Hannibal’s persona.</p><p>“I’ve got you,” Will says, lips behind Hannibal’s ear. “I’m right here.” </p><p>Hannibal breathes hard, torso beginning to heave against Will’s chest, legs squirming a little. </p><p>Will pumps Hannibal’s cock faster, no longer making it all the way to the head and focusing instead on the base to about three-quarters up.</p><p>Hannibal starts to thrust his hips into Will’s hand, his ass rubbing back against Will’s groin. He’s panting, and Will can feel how close he is to the edge. Will kisses Hannibal’s shoulder, then presses his face into the back of it, closing his eyes and just focusing on all the sensations of Hannibal’s body against his. The heat, the weight, Hannibal’s cock in his hand, Hannibal’s quickened breathing, the sweat between them.</p><p>“<em>Will</em>,” Hannibal says, his voice a notch louder than before. The name sounds like a warning.</p><p>“Come for me, my love,” Will says against Hannibal’s warm skin.</p><p>Hannibal lets out a long, low moan as his body starts to vibrate and his cock pulses in Will’s hand. Will listens to him, holds him, strokes him through the orgasm that wracks his body. Hannibal hisses and groans, leaning forward into Will’s arm that brackets his chest. Will massages the base of Hannibal’s cock, knowing Hannibal’s still coming whether he’s ejaculating or not, and basks in pride at causing the other man’s pleasure.</p><p>Not until Hannibal whimpers and gasps does Will still his hand. Will opens his eyes and lets go of Hannibal’s length to pet his ribs.</p><p>“Hannibal?” he says. “You okay?”</p><p>The older man shudders and takes a deep breath, leaning back into Will.</p><p>“Turn around,” Will tells him. “Let me see you.”</p><p>Hannibal allows Will to coax him onto his other side, careful not to fall off the sofa. He clings to Will, immediately curling his arm around the younger man. Will looks at Hannibal’s face, sees the same tender, wrecked expression Hannibal’s worn at the end of their previous sexual encounters. Hannibal kisses him, and Will wraps his arms around him, holding him close. They rest their heads against each other’s, and Will watches Hannibal’s face, while the other man shuts his eyes.</p><p>“God, this really does something to you, doesn’t it?” Will says.</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t smile or respond, just lies there in Will’s arms and tries to collect himself.</p><p>“Maybe it’s a good thing we don’t have sex all that often, if it’s this overwhelming.”</p><p>“I’m sure I could handle more,” says Hannibal. “If you wanted it.”</p><p>“Do you want more?”</p><p>Hannibal swallows and opens his eyes. “I want you to be comfortable. That’s what matters most to me.”</p><p>Will looks at him, and emotion begins to well up in his chest. “What exactly do you feel when we have sex? Why is it so intense for you?”</p><p>Hannibal maintains their eye contact, but now that he’s starting to recover, he’s not so easy to read. He’s quiet at first, and Will can almost see him composing an answer in his mind.</p><p>“I feel many things,” says Hannibal. “But what I feel most of all, when I am brought to climax, is love. Love and gratitude. I used to long for this life. For you. Now, you’re here because you want to be. You’re my husband and we hunt together and make love. It is more than I ever hoped for, Will.”</p><p>Will smiles, eyes stung with tears, and kisses Hannibal. “You’re right. I do want to be here. I want this to last the rest of my life.”</p><p>Hannibal pushes his face into Will’s chest, and Will keeps his arms around him.</p><p>“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” Will confesses. “I feel connected to you in a way I’ve never been to anyone else. I know you feel the same way about me.”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal says, his breath warm on Will’s skin.</p><p>Will holds Hannibal’s head to his chest with one hand, closes his eyes, and just savors the feeling of them cuddling naked like this. Hannibal keeps his hand flat on Will’s back, stroking a small patch of skin with his thumb. After a minute or two, the tears resurface in Will’s eyes, and his throat tightens. He feels too much, sure that some of his emotion is really Hannibal’s. A couple tears escape him, and he leaves a kiss in Hannibal’s hair.</p><p>They lie there in silence for a while, the flames finally dwindling in the fireplace.                  </p><p>“We shouldn’t sleep here,” says Will, eventually.</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t answer, motionless in Will’s arms.</p><p>“Hannibal.” Will rubs the other man’s arm gently.</p><p>“I heard you,” Hannibal says.</p><p>It’s a tremendous feat for the two of them to come apart and leave the sofa for the master bedroom. They abandon their clothes and shoes wherever the items fell in the sitting room and pad barefoot upstairs, holding hands and turning out lights as they go.</p><p>Once in their bed, Hannibal curls around Will’s back and holds him by the waist. Will’s taken off his shirt, and they’re both wearing clean underwear. Hannibal’s already half-asleep, but Will is awake.</p><p>“Hannibal?”</p><p>The older man hums against Will’s spine.</p><p>“If Mischa had survived, do you think you still would’ve become what you are?”</p><p>Hannibal is silent for so long that Will begins to wonder if the question was a mistake. An offense or a stabbing.</p><p>But at last, Hannibal says, “It is impossible to know. It has long seemed unfair to credit the men who killed her with my own becoming. To do so renders my entire person a mere consequence of loss. I disagree with that conclusion. I cannot, however, deny the profound impact the circumstances of her death made on me.”</p><p>Will processes Hannibal’s answer before asking his next question: “Do you think if she were alive now, she would accept you as you are? Accept us?”</p><p>Hannibal again pauses before replying. “Another mystery. I can only imagine the woman she would’ve been. I cannot know. I want to believe her love for me would have remained as unconditional as mine for her. Perhaps she would have needed time to accept me, time I would’ve given her. I have not imagined her as she might be now…. but if I do, I can only see her as my faithful ally and friend. And I know had she met you and known my feelings for you, she would have rejoiced for me.”</p><p>Will covers Hannibal’s hand on his chest with his own hand. He’s an only child and doesn’t understand what it means to feel bonded to a sibling, doesn’t know what that love feels like. But he knows what the absence of it is. He knows loss and loneliness, the isolation of being unique. He understands that in between Mischa and Will, Hannibal prowled the earth alone in a way that surpassed mere physical solitude, searching for love unconditional enough to embrace his violence. If Mischa had lived, Hannibal might still have become a killer, but he would’ve been a different man. A happier one. The tenderness he’s still capable of would’ve been greater and deeper. His decisions—some of them, at least—would’ve been different. With Mischa in his ear, maybe he never would’ve gutted Will that night in Baltimore. He might’ve approached Will differently altogether from the beginning. After Will’s betrayal, he would’ve run to Mischa in Europe instead of to Florence with Bedelia, and that hand saw never would’ve come so close to cracking Will’s skull open. Hannibal and Will would’ve actually reconciled upon reuniting in Italy then, even had Will’s knife remained in his pocket. Mischa would’ve seen to it. She would’ve understood them better than they understood themselves.</p><p><em>There are means of influence other than violence</em>, Chiyoh once said.</p><p>Will’s pretty sure Mischa would’ve known that too.</p><p>He closes his eyes and he can almost see her, a grown woman standing at Hannibal’s shoulder. His lifelong compass, refuge, and best friend. Will can imagine too easily Hannibal calling her weekly and laughing on the phone, Mischa visiting them here and bringing them a wedding present despite their city hall ceremony, he and Hannibal traveling to see her. She would have children, probably, and Hannibal would dote on them. Will attempts to fashion Mischa’s adult face in his mind just enough to see her and Hannibal looking at each other with the love and warmth he’s only ever seen Hannibal direct at him. </p><p>“I wish I could give her back to you,” Will tells Hannibal. And he means it.</p><p>Hannibal kisses the back of Will’s neck.   </p><p>Will smiles.</p>
<hr/><p>Will doesn’t meet Paola in their park for a couple weeks after the subway attack. She stays home, afraid to go out alone even during the day and refusing to do so for anything besides work. She won’t even walk Coco the dog unless Denise accompanies her. Will visits her and Denise several times during those first two weeks, checking up on them and trying to cheer Paola up. Denise worries about Paola, confides in Will that Paola’s depressed and hasn’t been the same since the attack. Hannibal finally pays the women a house call one evening, Will in tow, and tells Paola as a psychiatrist that she must practice returning to her former routines and venture out alone despite her anxiety. If she doesn’t, she risks developing agoraphobia. Paola seems to take Hannibal’s recommendation seriously, and when he offers to write her a prescription for Xanax she can take in the event of panic attacks, she accepts. After speaking to Paola in private, he joins Denise and Will in the apartment’s little kitchen and tells Denise to bring Paola over for dinner at the men’s house on the following Friday.</p><p>Monday afternoon, after the Friday night dinner, Paola texts Will and asks him to meet her in their park to play with Coco. Will smiles brightly at his phone and tells her he’ll be there right after work.  </p><p>She’s already in one of the grassy areas with the dog when he shows up, and she looks much better than she did on Friday night, as if the sunshine and greenery has already improved her mood. She smiles at Will as soon as she sees him and relaxes more, walking toward him with the dog on her trail.</p><p>Will greets her with a hug, which has become a pattern with them since the night of the attack, and kneels to pet Coco. “You look like you’re feeling better,” he says.</p><p>“I am,” Paola replies. “The weekend went really well, and it’s good to be back here again.”</p><p>“I’m glad you decided to return to the park this soon. Nature helps soothe just about any kind of emotional distress, in my experience.”</p><p>“Denise suggested we leave the city for a weekend soon, maybe for Tigre. I’d like to go somewhere with trees, but the water might be nice too.”</p><p>“Tigre is fun,” Will says, standing back up. “Fiorenzo and I sailed up there on our boat once.”</p><p>Paola grins. “You have a boat?”</p><p>“We do. I’ve been around boats since I was a boy. Once, I sailed across the Atlantic alone, from America to Europe, to find Fiorenzo…. Remind me to tell you the whole story some time.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrows in surprise at the grand, romantic gesture. “I definitely want to hear about that when you feel like telling me about it.”</p><p>Will thinks for a few seconds, then says, “Let me know where you and Denise decide to go, and I’ll pay for your accommodations.”</p><p>Paola opens her mouth to decline his offer, but Will holds up his hand to stop her.</p><p>“I want to take care of it. I want you and Denise to just have a good time without worrying about money. It’s no big deal. I’ll be happy to do it.”</p><p>She smiles at him softly, then nods. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll let you know what we decide.”</p><p>“And don’t feel like you have to choose a cheap place to stay. Pick the place you want. Price doesn’t matter.”</p><p>They take turns throwing a ball for Coco to chase and fetch until the dog slows down and stops to catch her breath, pink tongue unfurled out of her mouth. Will stands with his hands on his hips, eyes roaming over the tree canopies and the clear, blue sky above them. Paola watches him quietly for a minute, until he looks at her again and smiles.</p><p>“Have you ever wanted to hide your relationship with Fiorenzo from the public eye?” she says. “Pretend you’re friends when you go out together?”</p><p>“No, I can’t say that I have. I’ve thought about it in passing, maybe, but I don’t think I’ve <em>wanted</em> to hide since he and I got together. Are you thinking about hiding your relationship with Denise?”</p><p>Paola glances away. Birds twitter from their hiding places in the trees. “We’ve always been careful. But it wasn’t enough. We probably shouldn’t have responded to that man at all…. Never should’ve told him we were a couple.”</p><p>“Paola. He wasn’t going to leave you alone, whatever you did. I know getting attacked like that is a scary, traumatic experience, but retreating from the world isn’t the answer. Giving up your right to be as free and open as heterosexuals isn’t the answer. It’s unjust.”</p><p>She makes eye contact with Will again. “Why risk violence and harassment if I can avoid it? I’m not just thinking of myself. I want to protect Denise. She’s the one who was hurt worse that night. He could have beat her badly….”</p><p>Will crosses the distance between him and Paola and takes her by the shoulders. “You can’t let men like the one on the <em>subte</em> win. Don’t go looking for a confrontation, sure—but don’t live in fear and shame because of what happened. Pretending to be something or someone you aren’t means living a half-life. You and Denise deserve better.”</p><p>“Maybe if we were men, I would be less afraid….,” she says. “We would have a fighting chance.”</p><p>“I understand what you mean, but gay men are harassed in public too. Sometimes attacked. If it happened to me and my husband, I still wouldn’t deny our relationship or stop myself from touching him when I want to in the streets. I’ll never give other people that much power over me. You shouldn’t either.”</p><p>Will and Paola look at each other until he pulls her into a hug, wrapping his arms snug around her and resting his cheek against her hair. She holds onto him without reservation, undeniably small-framed and slender. Will wishes he could teach her and Denise how to fight the way he and Hannibal can fight: vicious and out for the kill. But to do so would run the risk of exposing himself and Hannibal for what they are.</p><p>“I’m so glad I met you,” Paola tells him, as they stand there embracing.</p><p>Will smiles. “I am too.”</p><p>They pull apart, the dog weaving around their legs and wagging her tail for attention.</p><p>“Bravery is a skill, Paola,” he says. “Something you practice.”</p><p>“How long have you been practicing?”</p><p>“Not as long as you probably imagine. If you start now, you’ll end up with much more experience than I’ll ever have.”</p><p>Paola leashes Coco, and she and Will start to stroll toward the park entrance on the paved path.</p><p>“Something I didn’t expect to come of the attack was realizing how much I love Denise,” Paola says. “I knew I loved her before that night, but…. I didn’t know how deeply until I thought that man might kill her.”</p><p>“I’m sure she had a similar experience,” Will replies, hands in his pants pockets. “Hopefully, what happened will draw you and Denise closer together.”</p><p>“Have you and Fiorenzo been attacked before? For being openly gay?”</p><p>“Not quite. But we’ve experienced violence together. It definitely strengthened our bond.”</p><p>Will walks Paola all the way home—because he knows she’ll feel safer if he does and because he’s missed her company in the streets.</p>
<hr/><p>On a cool and overcast afternoon the following week, Will’s working his shift at the animal shelter when his co-worker gasps at a notification on her phone.</p><p>“Oh, no,” she says, dark eyes slightly widened.</p><p>“Everything okay?” Will replies.</p><p>“There’s been some kind of terrorist attack…. Not far from here.” She scrolls on her phone through what must be an article. “It looks like a bomb. This hasn’t happened in years….”</p><p>Will’s gut clenches, a strong sense of dread gripping him. “Where exactly?”</p><p>“They haven’t listed the building or address, but the explosion happened in Villa Freud.”</p><p>Will’s heart sinks, and a chill sweeps through him.</p><p>His co-worker glances at him, sees his face, and looks up from her phone. “Do you know someone there?”</p><p>“My husband works in that barrio,” Will says, his mouth dry. He digs his phone out of his pocket and checks for messages but doesn’t find any. He turns his back on his co-worker and dials Hannibal.</p><p>No ringing. Voicemail.</p><p>“He’s not answering?” she says.</p><p>Will turns to her again and shakes his head. “His phone is off.”</p><p>She grimaces. “You should go find him. Don’t worry, I can close without you.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Will says with a nod. He’s out the door without hesitation, putting on his jacket as he goes. He gets into his car, already tingling with anxiety, and calls Hannibal again as he starts the engine.</p><p>Voicemail.   </p><p>He peels out of his parking space and onto the road, speeding as much as traffic allows. The drive to Villa Freud from the animal shelter isn’t long, but every minute that passes makes Will feel like he’s too late. He grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles whiten. He calls Hannibal a third time at a stop light.</p><p>
  <em>“You’ve reached Doctor Fiorenzo Sarto. Please leave your name and number after the tone and I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.” </em>
</p><p>“Hannibal. I just heard about the explosion. I’m on my way. You better fucking be alive.”</p><p>Will hangs up, not caring if he sounded angry or if Hannibal finds the message rude.</p><p>He can see the smoke stack before he reaches the boundaries of the tiny Villa Freud neighborhood, a black plume in the sky that makes his stomach twist. If Hannibal were alive, he would’ve called Will by now, whether to let him know he wasn’t affected by the attack or that he was but will survive. Villa Freud is small enough Hannibal would’ve heard the explosion even if it happened on another street. He would call or text Will as soon as he figured out what happened, just to let him know he was okay.</p><p>Will turns onto the neighborhood’s major boulevard and sees people in the near distance running around, the lights of ambulances and police cars. </p><p>“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. Checks his phone again even though he just tried Hannibal a few minutes ago. He calls a fourth time.</p><p>Voicemail.</p><p>He keeps driving toward Hannibal’s office, slowing down the closer he gets. The cops have already blocked off the road ahead, and he pulls right up to the barrier, peering through his windshield at the partially destroyed building on the other side of the intersection he can’t get through.</p><p>Hannibal’s building.<br/>
<br/>
The first three floors are the most damaged, their ruined interiors exposed, but little flames still smolder in the craters of the fourth floor like wagging tongues.</p><p>Hannibal’s office is on the third floor. Was on the third floor.</p><p>“Oh, my god,” Will hears himself say but doesn’t feel his mouth move.</p><p>He gets out of the car, frantic, wanting to run the rest of the way to the wreckage. The uniformed police officer tells him in Spanish he can’t get any closer. Will doesn’t even try to argue. He can barely speak in that moment, staring at the charred remains of Hannibal’s office building. There are injured people scattered all over the street where the building stands, paramedics attending to them. People covered in dust from the blast, crying and comforting each other. Fire trucks backed up to the building’s ground floor, the hoses still spraying water at the fourth.      </p><p>Will calls Hannibal, gazing at the crime scene, and doesn’t leave another message. He starts to run down the street the way he came and cuts across at the first opportunity, hoping to get closer to the scene via the next intersection. But when he reaches those cross streets, he finds them blocked off.</p><p>“You can’t go any further, sir,” the cop says, utterly unbothered.</p><p>“My husband was in there,” says Will. “I need to find him.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, but the scene is off limits to the public.”</p><p>Will turns back, getting more desperate by the second, and starts asking almost every person he passes if they’ve seen Hannibal, describing him as best he can with the Spanish he knows. He asks which hospital the victims are headed for. Nobody has any answers.</p><p>The air smells like fire and ash. He can hear a woman crying far away from him. He goes back to his car and watches the scene in a daze. Was it Hannibal’s patient that brought the bomb? Was Hannibal right there, in the room where the device went off?   </p><p>Will dials Hannibal for the fifth time, and the call goes straight to voicemail again. Hannibal never turns his phone off, but if the phone was destroyed in the explosion, that would explain why it isn’t ringing.  </p><p>Will stands in the middle of the street, eyes roaming wildly over his surroundings, then turns around and around again. He’s breathing heavy and fast, and if he doesn’t get it under control soon, he’ll hyperventilate. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do, and he can’t call Hannibal for help, the way he would in any other parallel situation.</p><p><em>This can’t be happening</em>, he almost says out loud. <em>This can’t be happening to me.</em></p><p>After everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve survived together, this can’t be how their story ends. This can’t be how Will loses Hannibal. They’re supposed to kill each other or die together by the same hand, at the same time, in a fight with another killer or a showdown with cops or a hunt gone wrong. Years from now. Will assumed it would be years from now. He assumed—didn’t know it until right this second—that he and Hannibal might even live long enough to give up killing altogether and age in peace.</p><p>Will’s eyes brim with tears, and he folds his hands together over the back of his head, watching the chaos of the crime scene with mounting despair.</p><p>He never got to dance the tango with Hannibal. They never returned to Europe together. They never sailed around the world or toured Florence as a couple or raised dogs. Hannibal was going to teach him how to bake beignets. Will was going to make love to him again soon. They were supposed to hunt down the man who hurt Paola and Denise and take their revenge.  </p><p>Will sinks to his knees, tears spilling down his face, his breath coming in short gasps. He wants to wail, can almost feel the noise trying to claw its way up his throat from his gut, but no sound comes out except the panting. His eyes are open, but all of a sudden, he can see Hannibal smiling at him over breakfast last Sunday morning, Hannibal leaning in to kiss him last night, Hannibal sun-bathing on their boat with his eyes closed.</p><p>Will covers his face with both hands and sobs, shoulders shaking. He’s alone. Completely and utterly alone. He’ll never be understood again. How can he go home? How can he kill again, all by himself? How can he live at all?</p><p>“Will?”</p><p>The voice doesn’t register in Will’s mind at first.</p><p>“Will?”</p><p>He drops his hands into his lap and lifts his head.</p><p>Standing there in front of him, several feet away, is Hannibal. Not even rumpled or scratched. The older man stares at Will with confusion and concern, obviously bewildered to see his husband so upset.</p><p>Will blinks at him and sniffs, his face wet. He gets to his feet, feeling unsteady on his legs. He questions whether Hannibal is real or only a figment of Will’s imagination, the way Abigail was a figment for months after her death.</p><p>Hannibal takes a step toward him and stops, as if unsure how Will would react to him getting close. “I’m all right,” he says, one hand outstretched. “I wasn’t in the office when the explosion occurred.”</p><p>“You didn’t answer your phone,” Will replies, numb and in a second state of shock.</p><p>“I forgot to charge it overnight.” </p><p>They stand there looking at each other for a moment, until Will runs to Hannibal and grabs him in a desperate hug. Hannibal circles his arms around Will and holds him close. He’s warm and solid and smells just the way he did before he left for work this morning. Alive.</p><p>“I thought you were dead,” Will says, weeping new tears of relief.</p><p>Hannibal rubs Will’s back a little with one hand, his chin tucked into Will’s shoulder. “Of course I’m not dead. I haven’t kept all the promises I made you yet.”</p><p>Will buries his face in Hannibal’s shoulder and trembles. The torrent of emotion tearing through him is too overwhelming to speak of or describe.</p><p>The two men stand there for an unknown length of time, the sounds of sirens and frantic voices and vehicles in motion whirling around them like the pieces of paper blown out of the bombed building. Hannibal doesn’t try to let go of Will, allowing the younger man to decide when he’s ready for them to come apart. Instead, Hannibal strokes Will’s back and hair and hushes him.</p><p>Will sucks in a loud breath as he raises his head, pressing it against Hannibal’s. His chest heaves, and he wants to sit down. But if he does sit, he might not get up again today.     </p><p>When he finally pulls back just enough to look at Hannibal, the older man cups Will’s face in both hands and gazes into his eyes, thumbs wiping at Will’s slick cheeks.</p><p>“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he says softly. “I really am all right.”</p><p>He kisses Will’s forehead.  </p><p>Will swallows, his arms still around Hannibal. “I want so much more time with you.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles. “And I with you.”</p><p>“I don’t want to live without you again.”</p><p>“Nor would I live without you.”</p><p>Will sniffs. Hannibal slides his hands to rest on Will’s shoulders. Will hangs his head, feeling utterly spent.</p><p>“Jesus,” he says.</p><p>“Let’s go home, Will.”</p><p>Will nods.</p><p>Hannibal leans in and kisses him sweetly, and Will closes his eyes, something inside him shivering at the taste of Hannibal’s lips. When Hannibal pulls away, his eyes meet Will’s.</p><p>“<em>Aš tave myliu</em>,” he says. “<em>Amžinai ir visada. </em>Forever and always.”</p><p>“I love you too, Hannibal,” Will replies, his heart aching and his eyes swimming.</p><p>They walk hand in hand back to Will’s car, and Will drives Hannibal to his vehicle, wishing they didn’t have to separate right now. Hannibal lays his hand on Will’s thigh before getting out of the car.</p><p>“We’ll go straight home,” he says. “I’ll be right behind you.”</p><p>Will nods, and Hannibal kisses his cheek before hopping out of the passenger seat.</p><p>All Will can think as he drives to the house is: <em>I am so screwed. I really can’t live without him.</em></p><p>Once they’re home, all Will wants to do is cuddle, and Hannibal obliges after brewing them hot tea. They strip off their clothes that smell of the bomb site, change into clean t-shirts, and crawl into bed. They lie on their sides facing each other, arms hooked around each other and legs tangled. Hannibal strokes Will’s curls, and Will keeps his face in Hannibal’s chest.</p><p>“You’ll feel better tomorrow,” Hannibal tells him.</p><p>“If you had died—”</p><p>“You would’ve hunted the men responsible to the ends of the earth and massacred them beautifully."</p><p>That is true. But it’s not what Will wanted to say.</p><p>“I would have died with you,” he states.</p><p>Hannibal sighs, and Will can tell he is at least partially pleased to know just how fiercely Will loves and needs him now.</p><p>“I would have you survive me,” says Hannibal. “Your radiance and wrath make this world more than it ever was before you or what it will be after you.”</p><p>“I don’t care. I don’t want to be alone again.” Will hesitates before speaking his next words, unsure if something so raw should be confessed out loud. “Without you, I’m not me.”</p><p>Hannibal runs his hand down Will’s back and up again, slow and steady. Will shuts his eyes, enjoying the sensation. They hold each other quietly for a while, and the idea of living without this, just this, is enough to drive Will mad with grief.       </p><p>“Love is a terrible thing, isn’t it,” says Hannibal.</p><p>“Not love,” Will says. “Loss.”</p><p>“Loss only matters if you love what you lose. And one way or the other, we must all die one day.”</p><p>“If you die without me, do it when we’re old. I’ll have an easier time bearing it then.”</p><p>“I’ll do my best.”</p>
<hr/><p>Hector Espinoza. That’s the man who attacked Paola and Denise on the subway. It takes Hannibal’s government acquaintance a week to find the footage from the subway car’s security camera, then another couple weeks for Hannibal’s overseas tech contact to identify Hector. Once Hannibal and Will have his name and address, they begin to stalk him like a pair of wild cats watching an antelope from a distance, hiding in the night and the tall grasses.</p><p>Hector is twenty-nine years old, not much older than the women. He lives with two male roommates in a Barracas apartment and takes the subway to his auto factory job. More often than not, he and his friends go drinking and clubbing near the city center, sometimes in Palermo and sometimes in neighboring districts. Hannibal and Will follow him in Will’s car one night because it’s the more inconspicuous of their two vehicles. They watch his apartment building for a few days total and familiarize themselves with his street and neighborhood. They take their time, though they’re both hungry for blood and Will’s rage simmers just below the surface.</p><p>When they finally kidnap him, Will trails Hector on foot as the young man walks home alone from the nearest subway station. It’s a Friday night, and Hector’s been drinking. Will jumps him from behind and drags him into an alley a few blocks from the apartment building, and Hannibal, who’s following in the car, helps Will load Hector’s bound and unconscious body into the backseat.</p><p>They drive out of Buenos Aires to their piece of land in the country, eventually hitting a desolate two-lane highway where the darkness is broken only by their headlights. Hector starts to regain consciousness in the back seat before they reach the barn, his noises muffled in his gag. Will glances at his shape in the rearview mirror, and Hannibal looks at Will in turn. They’re quiet. Hannibal’s got classical music playing faintly on the stereo system, almost inaudible. Neither of them speak to Hector, who manages to sit upright despite having his wrists bound behind him.</p><p>Hannibal parks right outside the barn doors, and Will gets out of the car to unlock the doors. They drag Hector out of the backseat and into the barn, which is empty except for a refrigerator and stand-alone freezer, various knives and other tools mounted on the back wall, a workman’s table, a few chairs, a trunk full of cleaning supplies and other murder accessories, and a bed that Will insisted on despite Hannibal’s warning that their DNA could easily be swiped from any bed they sleep in.</p><p>They bind Hector to a chair in the dead center of the barn, under a light bulb that casts an eerie light. Hannibal and Will put on their plastic murder suits over their clothes and snap on their gloves, doing so behind Hector. When they come around to face him, his eyes widen with true fear for the first time. They’re not holding any weapons yet, but he can see what’s coming for him.</p><p>“Do you know why you’re here?” Will says in Spanish.</p><p>Hector shakes his head, already whining into his gag.</p><p>“You attacked two women on the subway one night, not long ago. They were lesbians. You wanted them to kiss for you.”</p><p>The words are gritty in Will’s mouth, like sand between his teeth. He watches Hector’s face, waiting for either recognition or feigned denial. The memory of Denise and Paola standing on his doorstep that night returns to him, the blood all over Denise’s face and Paola’s tear-filled eyes. If Hector did forget what he did to them, that would only add insult to injury.</p><p>“You punched the blonde,” he says to Hector. “You tried to hurt her girlfriend just as much, but the blonde fought you.”</p><p>Hector mumbles uselessly into the gag, clearly trying to deny his guilt and beg for mercy.</p><p>Will’s hands are curled into fists at his sides.</p><p>Hannibal’s hands are open, his whole body relaxed as if they’re produce shopping at the market. He has none of Will’s anger, only his signature cool detachment. He likes and cares for Paola and Denise, but killing for him remains about the act itself, rather than the target. He’s killed people for far less than what Hector’s done and harvested their flesh to eat. He doesn’t grade rudeness on a scale.</p><p>Will steps forward, sneering at Hector, while Hannibal hangs back. Will punches Hector in the face, stunning him. Color blooms in Hector’s left cheek. Will punches him again, this time in the nose, and blood runs out of Hector’s nostrils, bright red. The sight and smell of it turns on the animal part of Will’s brain, and he feels something unfurl in the pit of his stomach, dark and vicious and thirsty.</p><p>Hector’s already looking up at him with terrified eyes. Another blow and he’ll probably start to get weepy. Will hates men like him more than almost anything: the kind who prey on women and anyone else weaker than them but who themselves have no real courage or strength to face an equally matched enemy. Will himself never once came close to panicking or crying when he was strapped to a chair at Mason Verger’s table, listening to the sadistic fuck’s plan to strip Will’s face off him and eat Hannibal with it piece by piece. He has no respect for violent men who can’t even handle a beating.</p><p>Will takes Hector by the neck in both his hands, squeezing hard enough to hurt and let Hector know he can and will choke him to death right here. Hector’s eyes bug out even more, and Will stares right down into them, snarling.</p><p>“You think you can put your hands on women like this,” he says. “Make them bleed. Scare the shit out of them. Hmm? You think you have the right, you son of a bitch?”</p><p>Hector makes a noise, and Will can feel it in Hector’s throat. He can feel the younger man’s racing pulse beating into his hand, and he wants to feel it stop, wants to strangle every sensation of life out of him.</p><p>Hannibal comes up behind Will and rests his hands on Will’s shoulders. That makes Will shiver, then feel more grounded in his body as he continues to choke Hector.</p><p>“Is this how you want to kill him?” Hannibal says softly.</p><p>Will loosens his grip around Hector’s neck enough to let him breathe. “No.”</p><p>If Will were alone, he just might choose to finish Hector off with his hands instead of with a knife. But Hannibal hasn’t killed since they did Padilla, which is a long time for him. Will won’t deprive him now.</p><p>Will steps back from Hector, who makes coughing and sputtering sounds into his gag, and takes a breath. He looks at Hannibal, who’s now at his left shoulder and watching him. Will just nods, and Hannibal understands his meaning.</p><p>The older man retrieves the knife he picked out for tonight from the table behind Hector. The knife has a three-inch, fixed blade and a beautiful marbled steel handle. He sharpened it yesterday, though it was already perfectly sharp, and the blade glints in the light, winking at Hector. Hannibal holds the knife with an ease and familiarity that Will notices and admires. It looks natural for Hannibal to have a knife in his hand. He’s more himself, more complete with the weapon.</p><p>Hannibal yanks Hector’s head back by the hair and leans over him a little. “Do you find homosexuality offensive, Mr. Espinoza?” he says. “Is it only lesbian sexuality you find titillating or would you also demand a pair of gay men perform a kiss for you in a public place?”</p><p>Hector stares at him, perhaps more afraid of Hannibal than of Will despite Hannibal’s even tone and calm demeanor. He still has the gag in his mouth. Hannibal isn’t expecting any answers and doesn’t care what they are. He can already make an educated guess.</p><p>Hannibal sticks the knife into Hector’s upper left abdominal quadrant, just below the ribcage, all the way to the hilt. Hector shouts into the gag and squirms. Hannibal straightens up and leaves the knife buried.</p><p>“Will,” he says. “Come here, please.”</p><p>Will, who’s been standing behind Hannibal in a spot where he can watch his husband’s work, steps up to Hannibal’s side.</p><p>“What do you think of giving Mr. Espinoza the show he asked for?” Hannibal says.</p><p>Will glances at Hector, who’s broken into a sweat and looks wild-eyed with panic now. He’s torn over whether he wants this pig to see the genuine love, desire, and affection between him and Hannibal, but in the end, he gives Hannibal what he wants. Will slides his hand around Hannibal’s waist to his back, pulls their hips together, and kisses him. Their plastic murder suits shudder between them. Will peels his mouth away from Hannibal’s, looks over at Hector, and Hannibal looks too.</p><p>“Does this excite you or disgust you?” Will says to Hector.<br/>
<br/>
Hector just sits there, torso heaving, a little blood staining his jacket and shirt below the knife.</p><p>Hannibal leans in and kisses Will’s jaw, then his neck, as Will holds eye contact with Hector.</p><p>“We’re going to kill you,” Will tells the younger man. “That excites us.”</p><p>Hannibal finds Will’s mouth again, and they kiss with a little more heat.</p><p>Will lets Hannibal go, and the older man returns to Hector, pulling out the knife. He cuts Hector’s left cheek, then his right, just to get him frantic. Hector’s eyes well with tears, and he tries to babble in Spanish for his life, hindered by the gag.</p><p>“Your sense of entitlement to the sexual attentions of whatever woman you find attractive is truly baffling to me, Mr. Espinoza,” Hannibal says.  </p><p>He uses the knife to snap Hector’s buttons off, all the way down his shirt. He drags the knife up from the bottom of Hector’s sternum to just below the hollow of his throat, making a shallow incision.</p><p>“The women you attacked in that subway car didn’t owe you anything. Do you understand?”</p><p>Hector nods desperately, as if that might save him.</p><p>Will moves to stand behind Hector and kneels on one knee. His eyes meet Hannibal’s, and their shared look sizzles with erotic energy. Will grips Hector’s hair and pulls his head back. He sinks his teeth into Hector’s neck until he tastes blood, feeling the scream vibrate through Hector’s throat and his own mouth. The sensation and the coppery flavor of the blood send a jolt of arousal straight to Will’s groin. He can smell the fear in Hector’s sweat. He doesn’t bite a chunk of flesh out of his neck, the way Hannibal did with Dolarhyde; he just holds Hector in his teeth until he’s had enough, then lets him go, leaving only the puncture wounds behind.</p><p>Blood’s spurting out of Hector’s left thigh now. Hannibal must’ve found the artery. That would be enough to kill the young man if they left him alone to bleed out, but they aren’t done with him.</p><p>Will cuts the restraints off Hector’s wrists, and Hannibal kneels down to untie Hector’s legs from the chair. Their pig is too overwhelmed with shock, horror, pain, and blood loss to take advantage of this opportunity to fight back or run. He’s easy to manhandle to the ground, and once they’ve got him on his back, Hannibal straddles his waist and starts to stab him in the chest over and over again. Blood splatters up onto his plastic suit and sprinkles his face. Will watches him, the taste of Hector’s blood still in his mouth.</p><p>When Hannibal stops, he looks up at Will, panting for breath. “He’s still alive, though he won’t be for long. You should finish him, my dear.”</p><p>Will nods.</p><p>Hannibal gets up onto his feet and moves out of Will’s way.</p><p>Will looks at Hector’s twitching body and the blood pooling underneath him as he decides what to do next. Hector’s already dazed, eyes unfocused, whimpering uselessly.</p><p>Will kneels over Hector’s thighs, plants one hand on Hector’s bloody, perforated chest, and slices open Hector’s belly. It’s a horizontal cut similar to the one Hannibal gave Will, but this one is meant to destroy. Will sinks his knife deep into Hector’s guts and tears through them from one side of the belly to the other. Blood squirts onto Will’s plastic suit over his thighs and abdomen. If Hector makes new sounds, Will doesn’t hear them in his trance. He watches the burgundy blood flood out of Hector’s belly—then on impulse, he reaches into the wound and pulls the pig’s intestines out of his body, leaving them draped and glistening over the waist.</p><p>Will stands up and finally meets Hannibal’s intense gaze.</p><p>They’re covered in blood, most of it still warm. It drips down their plastic suits onto the linoleum floor Hannibal had installed for easy clean-up. Their knives are stained scarlet. Will’s right glove is beaded with hot blood rapidly cooling. They stare at each other, both a little breathless. Hannibal starts to take off his plastic murder suit without a word and leaves it on the floor. Will steps away from Hector’s body, toward Hannibal, and takes off his plastic without being asked because he can sense that’s what Hannibal wants. Hannibal takes off his gloves. Will sheds his own. They never take their eyes away from each other’s.</p><p>Hannibal pushes Will back into the table, rougher than he’s ever been with Will in their marriage outside of their sparring sessions, quick hands flying down Will’s shirt buttons. Will doesn’t have time to process what’s happening, his brain lagging far behind his body as he gasps into Hannibal’s mouth and feels his pulse speed up.</p><p>“Stop me now if you don’t want this,” Hannibal says, in between desperate kisses, his fingers already fumbling with the button in Will’s pants and his shirt tails tucked into the waistband.</p><p>Hannibal’s never been this kind of aggressive initiator of a sexual encounter before, and Will is at a total loss, overwhelmed by his husband’s ferocious energy. Hannibal sucks at Will’s neck, biting just enough to send a shock through Will’s body. Will can smell the blood, that metallic scent mingling with Hannibal’s aftershave now, and he feels hot and wired and—</p><p>“Will.” Hannibal looks into his eyes again, already flushed and breathing hard.</p><p>Will remembers his own hands, and they’re suddenly all over Hannibal, as if searching for the right place to grab hold of. “I want it. I want you. Right now. Take everything you want from me.”</p><p>Hannibal seizes Will’s face with both hands and crushes his mouth into Will’s, as if the only air he can breathe is in Will’s lungs. Will’s mind goes blank until Hannibal breaks the kiss, then he’s shedding his shirt and trying in vain to open Hannibal’s.</p><p>Hannibal yanks Will’s pants down to his ankles, hammers his hips into Will’s, and they both groan at the meeting of their trapped erections. Hannibal slides his hand into Will’s boxer briefs, fondling him, and Will drops his head back, eyes closed and lips parted. Hannibal leans in to kiss Will’s throat, and Will drapes his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders.</p><p>“Hannibal,” Will sighs, legs already weak and close to shaking beneath him. “Please.”</p><p>“I want everything,” Hannibal says in Will’s ear, stroking the younger man’s hard-on. “Everything you are, everything you’re made of. I want to consume you: body, mind, and soul.”</p><p>Will meets Hannibal’s heavy-lidded gaze, already drunk with desire and arousal and the thrill of murder. “I love how much you want me. Nobody’s ever wanted me the way you do.”</p><p>They kiss again, until Hannibal takes his hand out of Will’s underwear and picks him up with both arms, hauling him over to the bed with strength that surprises Will. Hannibal drops Will onto the mattress and immediately strips all of his own clothes off, watching Will as he does. Will lies on the mattress looking up at him, bare chest already heaving, feeling utterly at the mercy of his husband. He takes off his boxer briefs just as Hannibal finishes undressing, then Hannibal’s on top of him, between his legs and kissing him again.</p><p>“Make this last,” Will whispers when Hannibal lets him breathe.</p><p>Hannibal runs his hands down Will’s sides and kisses his neck, then turns to fish something out of his pile of clothes on the floor. He shows the object to Will: a bottle that could only contain one thing.</p><p>“You brought oil,” Will says. “Jesus, you were planning ahead.”</p><p>Hannibal grins. “Always being prepared has served me well in life.”</p><p>He opens the bottle and pours a generous amount of oil into his palm, covers both of his hands with it, and immediately slathers his cock and Will’s own. Will hisses, tips his head back, flutters his eyes shut.</p><p>“Shit,” he says.</p><p>Hannibal pours more oil onto Will’s chest and belly, rubbing it all over the younger man until Will glistens with it. He tugs at Will’s cock again, his hand slipping on it. </p><p>“Hannibal,” says Will, breathing fast and heavy. “Please fuck me. Please.”</p><p>Hannibal presses his groin against Will’s, pinning Will’s legs between his own and bracing his hands on Will’s shoulders. He does his best to keep his belly low, as close to touching Will’s as possible, and thrusts his hips once experimentally.</p><p>Will groans, and Hannibal opens his mouth as he closes his eyes in pleasure.</p><p>“Oh, god, do that again,” says Will.</p><p>Hannibal starts to rock his hips at the perfect pace, his cock rubbing against Will’s between their bellies. The oil enhances the sensations, feeling almost like the slickness of being inside a woman, and for the first time with Hannibal, Will is not in control, which leaves him delirious with erotic feelings. All he can do is lie there as Hannibal ruts against him, helpless under the weight of the other man, watching Hannibal’s face above him.</p><p>Hannibal shuts his eyes when pleasure begins to overwhelm him, fingers curled into Will’s bare shoulders. His lips are swollen from their kissing, his face flecked with blood, his hair mussed, the muscles in his arms and shoulders taut and popping. The heat radiating from their groins is so great, Will wouldn’t be surprised to see the waves in the air around them.</p><p>He finally remembers how to move his body and reaches up with both hands for Hannibal’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Hannibal opens his eyes only long enough to look into Will’s, their noses almost touching. He lowers himself onto his elbows, resting his belly and chest on Will’s, and closes his eyes again. Will caresses Hannibal’s head, brushes his loose hair back behind his ears, holds Hannibal’s face in his hands. Hannibal slows his humping just a little, but Will notices, tries in vain to push his hips up into the other man’s.</p><p>“Talk to me,” Will says, almost sighing. “If you’re not going to look at me, talk to me.”</p><p>“I love you,” Hannibal replies. He swallows and gulps for air, his own chest and belly now slippery with oil, hard cock burning next to Will’s on Will’s abdomen. “I love you more than anything.”</p><p>Will runs his hands down Hannibal’s back and cups Hannibal’s ass, gripping the meaty flesh hard enough to make Hannibal grunt. “More than killing?”</p><p>“Yes. More than killing, more than life. Oh, Will.”</p><p>“God, that feels so fucking good.”</p><p>Hannibal rests his face in Will’s throat, smelling him as Will tilts his head back. Will’s hands let go of Hannibal’s ass and slide up his back. Hannibal grinds his hips harder into Will’s, and they moan together at the burst of pleasure and friction between them.</p><p>“Hannibal!” Will cries. “Oh, fuck, I love you too.”</p><p>Hannibal drives his groin down and scoops it up into Will’s, does it again and groans. He suckles the knob of Will’s right collarbone, pants against Will’s throat. Will’s got him by the hair, both hands tangled in Hannibal’s locks, and the younger man does his best to rock his own hips up against Hannibal’s, desperate for more stimulation.</p><p>“Faster,” Will says. “Please, Hannibal, I need it faster.”</p><p>Hannibal raises himself up on his elbows again and starts to thrust against Will faster. The heat and hardness of Will’s cock against his own, both of them slick with oil, has him so aroused, he’s almost lightheaded. He’s breathing too fast and too shallow, but he doesn’t care. Will’s moaning under him, arching his back, hands now fisting the bedding, and Hannibal humps him, wanting to make him come harder than anyone’s made him come before.</p><p>“Fuck, yes,” Will whines. “Just like that. Oh, god, oh, god.”</p><p>Hannibal kisses Will’s neck and his jaw, shifts his weight onto his right elbow and starts to massage Will’s right nipple with his thumb. Will writhes under him, chest heaving, eyes closed.</p><p>Hannibal groans and when he speaks, he sounds drunk. “I love the sight of you covered in blood. The sight of your power. How brutal you can be when you let go of your inhibitions.”</p><p>“God, don’t ever stop.” Will almost sounds pained now. “I want to feel like this forever, want to feel you like this forever.”</p><p>Hannibal almost laughs. He shifts back onto both elbows and takes Will’s head in his hands, tilting it toward him and kissing Will’s mouth. He’s starting to tire but doesn’t care. He’ll fuck Will until he doesn’t have the energy to move if that’s what the younger man wants.</p><p>“I love you, Hannibal,” Will mumbles against his husband’s lips, as the kiss breaks. He looks into Hannibal’s eyes as he says it, his own eyes gleaming with emotion and desire. “I want to make you come. Want to make you feel how much I love you.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles at him, a warm smile that reaches all the way down into his gut. He pets Will’s curls away from his face. “I want the same for you.”</p><p>Then he sits up and takes his cock and Will’s in his hand together, pumping them both. Will throws his head back and moans, arching off the bed. Hannibal closes his eyes and breathes open-mouthed, pleasure crackling through his erection. Will grips Hannibal’s hips hard and tugs him forward. Hannibal makes a sound that’s half groan, half whimper.</p><p>“Will,” he says, voice husky. “Wrap your legs around me.”</p><p>Will’s squeezing Hannibal’s hips in his hands and breathing hard with his eyes shut.</p><p>Hannibal touches Will’s knee with his free hand and repeats his request.</p><p>Will starts to move his legs out from underneath Hannibal, as the older man lifts himself up just enough to allow him movement. He hikes up his knees, still panting as Hannibal strokes their erections together, and hooks his legs around Hannibal, forcing the other man to bend over him again.</p><p>Hannibal lets go of them and begins to thrust his cock against Will’s, the hot weight of it falling onto Will’s belly again. He buries his face in Will’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin as he inhales Will’s scent.</p><p>“Hannibal!” Will cries. “Oh, Christ, right there. Jesus, yes. I’m so close. I’m so close.”</p><p>Hannibal ruts against him, slips his hands under Will’s head to cradle it and tilts it up into his shoulder. Will clings to him, fingers clawing into Hannibal’s back, breathing hard in Hannibal’s ear.</p><p>“I love you,” Hannibal whispers, feeling his orgasm beginning to gather in his groin. “My Will.” He kisses Will’s jaw. “My everything.”</p><p>Will squeezes his legs tighter around Hannibal and starts to shake, pressing his head against the other man’s. “I’m gonna come,” he gasps, already half out of his mind. “Hannibal, I’m gonna come so hard…. Oh, my god. Oh, fuck, please hold me through this.”</p><p>“Fall with me. Fall with me again.”</p><p>Will tips his head back as much as he can in Hannibal’s hands, clenches his thighs around Hannibal’s body, and starts to orgasm, his seed spurting between them. His choked silence turns into a long moan, pleasure exploding through his groin and the flames of it licking up and down his torso and legs. His mind goes blank for a few seconds, and all the muscles in his body feel as if they’re quivering.</p><p>All it takes is the sensation of Will’s cock pulsing against his to send Hannibal over the edge, and he sucks in a sharp breath as he starts to climax, grinding his hips into Will’s. He muffles his own groaning in Will’s neck and shoulder, feeling his fluids and Will’s mingling together, sticky on their skin. He wants to drag out this orgasm as long as he can, so he keeps a steady pace through it instead of speeding up.</p><p>“<em>Hannibal</em>,” Will keens, trembling underneath his husband.</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal breathes. He turns Will’s head in his hands to kiss his mouth, and they muffle the sounds of their pleasure in each other’s lips. Their bellies are wet with oil and semen, their hair damp with sweat. Hannibal catches Will’s lower lip between his teeth, not biting, just holding it. He wants to drink the blood of their prey from Will’s mouth—but he won’t complain about the pure taste of Will he gets now instead. Will’s clenching his thighs tight around Hannibal’s waist, bucking his hips up into Hannibal’s, and their orgasms seem to stretch on forever.</p><p>When Hannibal finally stops humping Will, Will’s legs collapse open around him, the two of them completely spent. The only sound in the barn is their fast, heavy breathing. Hannibal rests his face down in the mattress next to Will’s head, body covering Will almost entirely, relishing the feel of Will’s hands light on his back.</p><p>“My love,” Will says, his voice breathy and quiet.</p><p>Hannibal lifts his head to look at Will, finds the younger man staring at the ceiling and trying to calm down. He runs his hand down Will’s left side and nuzzles Will’s cheek with his nose. “Are you all right? That was exceptionally intense.”</p><p>Will scoffs into an open-mouthed grin, shutting his eyes for a second. “Is that your underhanded way of bragging?”</p><p>Hannibal grins. “No. I really do want to know if you’re all right.”</p><p>Will opens his eyes again and looks into Hannibal’s eyes. “I’m all right.”</p><p>“Good.” Hannibal kisses Will’s cheek.</p><p>Will’s hands move along the back of Hannibal’s shoulders. He wants to hold the other man close for a while. “I really wish we didn’t have to finish cleaning this place up now.”</p><p>Hannibal hums. “The pleasure of cooking always comes at the price of a messy kitchen,” he says. “I’ve never regretted cleaning the mess immediately.”</p><p>Will smiles at Hannibal. “Do you think about anything other than killing and cooking?”</p><p>“Of course. I think about you all the time.” Hannibal caresses Will’s curls, watching his face.</p><p>Will shuts his eyes, wearing a blissful expression. “Just stay with me for a little bit. Dinner isn’t going anywhere.”</p><p>“You certainly made sure of that, <em>mi compañero de sangre</em>.”</p>
<hr/><p>Sunday morning, Hannibal wakes Will earlier than the younger man typically leaves bed on the weekends and drives them to the shore. The sky is overcast and the air cool, the daylight a dim bluish gray. The city is as quiet as it ever gets, and they ride with the windows rolled down to listen. Once they arrive at the docks and park, Hannibal takes the picnic basket he packed for them out of the back seat. Will hadn’t noticed it on the way over and he smiles fondly at his husband. God forbid a weekend morning go by without one of Hannibal’s extravagant breakfasts.</p><p>It’s chilly on the water, which neither man minds, but the wind leads them to eat in the boat’s cabin with the window open instead of on deck. Hannibal packed ceramic plates and silverware from their kitchen, and he sets the little table while Will brews them coffee. He was in the mood for French food when he started to cook earlier: breakfast is <em>oeufs cocotte</em> and <em>pain aux raisins</em> with butter and jam. Though it doesn’t traditionally pair with the eggs in pots, he also serves strips of the bacon he cut from the rapist Will murdered, perfectly crispy with minimal fat. Will savors every bite.    </p><p>After breakfast, they go up on deck for a while, so Will can soak up the atmosphere. The wind whips through his curls as he steers the boat. The air doesn’t have the same salty scent as it does on the ocean, but he can still smell the water. Will has wondered more than once since he and Hannibal moved to Buenos Aires if his husband knew him so well prior to the fall that he understood Will’s unspoken desire to live near water. He’s spent periods of his life landlocked, but growing up on river boats made him into a man who craves easy access to large bodies of water. Even when he had the house in Wolf Trap, he took comfort in the knowledge that the Potomac River was a short drive east and the Atlantic Ocean a couple hours away. Life is simpler on the water. Quieter. He’s always missed that simplicity when on land, surrounded by too many people.</p><p>Hannibal watches him on deck, sipping at his lukewarm coffee. Will can feel him watching and doesn’t mind it. He knows by now that Hannibal loves seeing him happy, free, and in his element. Whatever that means.  </p><p>When the men go back into the cabin, Hannibal leads Will to the bedroom.  </p><p>“Please lie down,” Hannibal says.</p><p>Will obeys, lying on his back in the center of the bed, his head and shoulders propped up against a pillow and the wall. He looks at Hannibal expectantly.</p><p>Hannibal climbs onto the bed and curls up on his side, laying his head on Will’s belly. Will huffs into a smile, eyes meeting Hannibal’s. He runs his hand over and through Hannibal’s hair, liking the weight of the other man’s head on his belly. Hannibal finds Will’s other hand with his own and laces their fingers together.</p><p>“Were you as good to your ex-lovers as you are to me?” Will says. “As thoughtful and affectionate?”</p><p>Hannibal smiles. “I’ve always been a courteous person, which requires a certain amount of thoughtfulness. But I have never treated a lover the way I treat you. For better or worse. I’ve never felt for anyone else what I feel for you.”</p><p>“You never killed any of your exes? Or tried?”</p><p>“Oh, I’ve killed a few. But not out of any passionate emotion. Nothing so petty as revenge or so predictable as heartbreak. They became inconvenient. Or murder was what I had in mind from the start and only used the sex to gain access.”</p><p>Will continues to pet Hannibal’s hair, his belly rising and falling under Hannibal’s head as he breathes. “I broke your heart,” he says. “More than once. But you didn’t kill me.”</p><p>“I came close enough,” says Hannibal.</p><p>They’re quiet for a minute, hands still entwined. The further into their life as partners they go, the less they want to remember the dark past that led them here. But their past is a part of their relationship, a part of each man, and they won’t deny it.  </p><p>“I can’t imagine what I’d do if you broke my heart now,” says Will. “Or what that would look like. Abandonment, I guess. With or without another person involved to replace me.”</p><p>“Leaving you is inconceivable to me.” Hannibal traps Will’s hand between both of his own and brings it to his lips, kissing Will’s knuckles. “Nobody could ever compete with you. I lived a long time before we met and encountered enough people to know that to be true.”</p><p>“I can’t fathom ever being apart from you either, you know. The imbalance between us is long gone. I need you as much as you need me.”</p><p>Hannibal stays quiet, reflecting on Will’s words. He holds onto Will’s hand, feeling the calluses.  </p><p>“Do you believe me?” says Will.</p><p>“I believe you.”</p><p>Will massages his fingertips into Hannibal’s scalp. “If you still doubt that my commitment or love is equal to yours, even for some fleeting moment, you should tell me. I’ll do what I can to prove you wrong.”</p><p>“You’ve done more than I ever dreamed already.”</p><p>“You’ve asked so little of me since we killed Dolarhyde.”</p><p>“What is there to ask for?” Hannibal says. “I have what I want.”</p><p>“I just want to make sure you aren’t holding back out of fear that if you’re too demanding, I’ll leave.”</p><p>“I have no secrets from you when it comes to our relationship, Will. I’m happy to let you decide when we hunt, when we make love, when we leave for another city. As long as you’re here, I’m largely impartial to the details.”</p><p>“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Will says but smiles. “I feel like I should give you more reassurance. More of everything.”</p><p>Hannibal smiles too and closes his eyes. “If you do, I certainly won’t complain.”  </p><p>Will caresses Hannibal’s hair with both hands, watching his face. “The only future I see is a future I share with you.”</p><p>Hannibal doesn’t respond, just lies there with a soft and happy expression.</p><p>Will runs his thumb over Hannibal’s eyebrow and down to his cheekbone. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth. And I would kill to protect what we have.”</p><p>Hannibal opens his eyes and peers at Will with absolute adoration and delight. His fingertips skim Will’s ribs over the younger man’s sweater. “I hope to see it one day, you killing a man to protect our life.”</p><p>Will smirks. “The follow-up sex would be memorable, that’s for sure.”</p><p>“Yes—but not as memorable as the sight of you slaughtering whoever threatens us.”</p><p>Hannibal slips his hand under Will’s sweater to touch his warm skin. They lie there on the bed in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s presence. Will caresses Hannibal and gazes at him lovingly. Hannibal shuts his eyes again and keeps his hand on Will’s ribs.</p><p>“Switch places with me,” says Will, sitting up and forcing Hannibal’s head to slide down into his lap.</p><p>Hannibal rises from the bed only to lie down again where Will was, his head on the pillow. Will sits beside him and runs his hands down Hannibal’s chest and abdomen, over the older man’s sweater. He pushes the sweater and thin t-shirt underneath it up Hannibal’s torso to expose his skin, then leans down slowly, holding eye contact with his husband. </p><p>Will kisses Hannibal’s belly—once, twice, a third time.</p><p>Hannibal watches him, grinning. He hums with pleasure. “If you do that much more, you’ll arouse me,” he says.</p><p>“Would it be cruel of me to unintentionally arouse you and then not get you off?” says Will, meeting Hannibal’s gaze before kissing below his navel.</p><p>“Far from cruel. But if you arouse me enough, I may need to resolve it myself.”</p><p>Will brushes his nose against Hannibal’s belly and kisses it again. “Doesn’t it feel good to be kissed here?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Will pulls down the waistband of Hannibal’s pants and boxer briefs just enough to plant a kiss on his hip bone.</p><p>Hannibal purrs and runs his hand over Will’s curls.   </p><p>Will moves to lie down beside Hannibal, pulling the older man onto his right side and pressing his chest to Hannibal’s back. He pets Hannibal’s belly and kisses the back of his neck. Hannibal sighs, hugging his pillow with both arms and enjoying the sensations. Will nuzzles the back of Hannibal’s head, inhaling the scent of Hannibal’s expensive shampoo.</p><p>“I want this forever,” Will says, running his hand down Hannibal’s side and sliding it back over his belly.</p><p>Hannibal smiles deeply, warm joy blossoming in his chest. He takes Will’s hand in his own and squeezes it. “I do too. I love you, Will.”</p><p>Will tucks his face into Hannibal’s neck. “I love you, Hannibal.”</p>
<hr/><p>When Will finally invites Hannibal to the milonga where he’s been learning the tango, Buenos Aires is only a few weeks away from the winter season. Late autumn brings chilly nights that call for jackets and even scarves, in Hannibal’s case. They take the older man’s car, the drive from their house a relatively short one, and they don’t talk. Hannibal can tell Will is nervous, and Will knows it. But Hannibal doesn’t offer any unsolicited encouragement, just drives them to the milonga with a pleasant hint of a smile on his face. Will isn’t bringing Hannibal to the milonga just watch him dance. Hannibal’s going to dance with him, for the whole crowd to see.</p><p>It’s “bring your family, friends, and lovers” night at the milonga, not so much a formal performance occasion as a night where recreational dancing substitutes for class. Anyone who shows up can tango, even if they aren’t students. There are more people than Will expected, which just makes him more nervous. All friendly faces, men and women of different ages, some clearly heterosexual and others gay and lesbian. Will’s classmates, who cluster nearest the dance floor, seem to be in good, lighthearted spirits, without any of the nervousness he feels. Hannibal is, as always, gracious and polite and totally at ease amongst strangers. Will leads him right to the instructors and introduces them, and Hannibal shakes hands with the two gay men.</p><p>“Thank you for teaching my husband Argentina’s dance,” he says.</p><p>“It has been our pleasure,” one of the instructors replies. “He’s been a diligent student.”</p><p>“Michael tells us you’re a skilled tango dancer,” the other instructor says. “We’ve been looking forward to seeing you two on the floor together.”</p><p>Hannibal grins. “I’m sure I’m no match for you gentlemen, but I hope you enjoy our dance regardless.”</p><p>He and Will stand amongst the crowd for several songs, watching other couples dance the tango at a wide range of difficulty and skill levels. Most of the couples are same-sex, but a few heterosexual pairs take a turn. A lesbian couple who Will doesn’t know but who must be friends of one of his classmates give a particularly beautiful performance, and he’s mesmerized just long enough to forget his nerves. Hannibal murmurs his praise of the women in Will’s ear, clapping delicately the way he always does.</p><p>After a few more couples go, Hannibal lays his hand at the small of Will’s back, and Will understands the request. He leads Hannibal onto the dance floor and turns to him with a shy smile on his face.</p><p>“I guess I’ll lead,” he says. “If you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Never,” says Hannibal, smiling back at him.</p><p>The crowd clap their encouragement before the song Will picked out begins to play. The music is slow and romantic, the lyrics in Spanish.</p><p>Will takes Hannibal’s left hand in his right and hooks his left arm around Hannibal’s back. Hannibal rests his hand on Will’s back. They’re close enough their chests touch on one side, and Hannibal instinctively presses his brow to Will’s temple, the hallmark of tango’s most intimate embrace. Will starts to move forward, Hannibal stepping backward with him.</p><p>They dance a half circle around one edge of the floor, Will’s nervousness quieting a little as they go. Their legs mirror each other’s in perfect sync. Once they come back to the middle of the floor, Hannibal sweeps his outer leg around front to back, anticipating Will turning him half away, and they stop long enough for Hannibal to hook his leg up underneath Will’s twice, before Will squares Hannibal’s shoulders to his again.</p><p>Will twirls them in a circle, making three full rotations, and he kicks up the same leg in low <em>boleos</em> a few times, each one more confident than the last. He lets go of Hannibal’s hand just long enough to open up their embrace, and Hannibal follows his lead, the two of them taking rhythmic steps backward and forward in a classic Latin beat. They come together again, clasping hands, and Hannibal gives Will a reassuring smile.</p><p>Will pushes them across the floor, and Hannibal moves with him as if they’ve danced like this a thousand times before, never hesitating to go where Will directs. Will’s steps are quick as they go from one corner of the floor to its diagonal opposite—then he pauses and Hannibal takes the opportunity to kick his leg up in a high backward <em>boleo</em>. Of course, Hannibal’s dance style is dramatic, while Will has been cultivating one more subtle. Hannibal reins himself in for Will, and Will appreciates the deferment, the trust.</p><p>They start to dance to Will’s left around the edge of the dance floor, until Will steers them back toward the middle. Hannibal makes his own embellished movements whenever Will gives him the chance, stretching one long leg elegantly behind him the next time they pause as he pivots on his other foot. Will dares to spin Hannibal, unsure he’ll pull it off until he does, and brings the other man back against his chest right out of the spin. Will huffs into an open-mouthed grin, and Hannibal smiles at him again, Will’s giddy self-satisfaction infectious. They dance a figure eight around the whole dance floor, feet mirroring each other’s again, forehead to forehead.</p><p>Will has never been this intimate with Hannibal in public before, holding him with tenderness and love. Exposing their bond to spectators sends a rush of adrenaline through Will’s body, even as he relishes the sweetness of simply being in Hannibal’s arms. It scares him to be so vulnerable before an audience, even as the sense of freedom thrills him.</p><p>The song ends just as they come to a stand-still in a dancer’s close embrace, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. The spectators erupt in applause all around them, a few people calling out “Magnifico!” and “Bellisimo!” Will and Hannibal gaze at each other as if they’re alone in the room, Will flush with relief and pride over his successful dance and Hannibal charmed to the point of glowing. Hannibal kisses Will on the cheek, and Will breaks into a grin, then leads Hannibal off the dance floor by the hand.</p><p>Will doesn’t stop to speak to any of his classmates or instructors as they congratulate and compliment him. He takes Hannibal outside, through the milonga’s side door that exits into an alley.</p><p>“What do you think?” Will says. “I did okay, right?”</p><p>Hannibal, who’s still looking at Will with a smitten expression, just smiles and leans in to kiss him. “You are a fine dancer, Will. Thank you for learning the tango. Dancing it with you was a tremendous pleasure.”</p><p>Will beams at his husband, fingers ghosting along Hannibal’s elbows before he drops his hands to take Hannibal’s. “One day, maybe I’ll be as good as you are. Then we could really have some fun.”</p><p>“We should practice at home, if you want to be comfortable dancing with me specifically.”</p><p>“You’re the only one I want to dance with,” says Will, holding Hannibal’s hands in his. He leans forward to touch his brow to Hannibal’s again. “Let’s go home.”</p><p>“You don’t want to stay until the end?” Hannibal replies, looking and sounding just as pleased and relaxed as Will feels.</p><p>“No. I want to get away and just be with you.”</p><p>“As you wish, <em>mano gražus vyras</em>.”</p>
<hr/><p>By the time the men reach home, it’s raining. The water comes down in a steady sheet, filling the windless night with an earthy, clean smell. Hannibal and Will ush inside from the car, tracking a bit of water into the house’s foyer and laughing about it. Hannibal gives Will the fondest smile as they stand there with their damp hair, their jackets beaded with rain at the shoulders.</p><p>“What?” says Will, still floating with relief and pride over their tango performance.</p><p>“Life with you here is an exquisite dream,” Hannibal replies.</p><p>Will’s smile softens and deepens as he slowly takes off his jacket. “It isn’t a dream, Hannibal. It’s real.” He hangs the jacket on the coat rack near the front door.</p><p>Hannibal steps up to him and takes his hand gently. Will allows himself to be led further into the house, past the kitchen and into the sitting room. When they stop in the middle of the room, the dimmer lights turned down low around them, Hannibal turns, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. Will smiles into his husband’s lips. They hold the kiss for a long moment, their eyes closed. They can hear the rain pitter pattering against the windows.</p><p>When they come apart and look at each other, Hannibal keeps his hands on Will’s face, rubbing at Will’s cheeks with his thumbs.</p><p>“You danced beautifully,” says Hannibal. “You’re a natural.”</p><p>“You’re just being nice. But I appreciate it.”</p><p>“I’m being honest, Will.”</p><p>Will doesn’t argue with him, and Hannibal lowers his hands.</p><p>“I’m in the mood for a glass of wine and bed,” says Will. “If you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Of course not. But there’s something I want to do with you first.”</p><p>Will looks at Hannibal with curiosity, and Hannibal takes him by the hand again, leading him to the double doors that open onto the backyard steps.</p><p>“Hannibal, what are you doing?”</p><p>The older man doesn’t answer, just takes Will outside, down the steps, and onto the wet ground. They’re both soaked in a few minutes. Will’s protests and questions are punctuated with laughter, but Hannibal is utterly serious when he pulls Will into another dancer’s embrace, right hand clasping Will’s left. Will gives him a look.</p><p>“This is ridiculous,” he says, curls plastered to his face and water streaming from their ends.</p><p>Hannibal just grins. “Trust me.”</p><p>This time, Hannibal leads the dance, and Will is apprehensive at first, worried he’ll make a mistake. But Hannibal keeps the tango basic, and it only takes a minute for Will to find his confidence. Their dance now is even simpler than the one they did in the milonga, and they go only as fast as they can without slipping in the puddles and the mud.</p><p>Hannibal presses his cheek to Will’s and turns them, then pushes Will backward as he steps forward. Their shoes might be ruined, and it’ll take a few days for Hannibal’s jacket to air dry in the sun. Water runs into their eyes, and they’re starting to get cold.</p><p>But Will doesn’t try to stop the dance before Hannibal does. He hears music in his mind, something romantic and atmospheric. A long time ago, thousands of miles away, when Will was a different man, he shared a different kind of rainy night with Hannibal…. He’s wanted to erase it from his memory ever since he woke up alive from its events, and he’s happy to have this night rewrite his associations.</p><p>Hannibal spins him out just before ending the dance, pulling him back into a hug and kissing him again. Will clutches Hannibal in his arms, melting into the other man’s body, and realizes he can no longer imagine any other life but this one. Can’t remember what it felt like to willingly live without Hannibal’s love, without this intimacy. He doesn’t want to remember how it felt to be someone other than who he is now. Here, with Hannibal Lecter, he is free and in love.</p><p>Hannibal pulls away and moves the hair out of Will’s face. He smiles tenderly, and Will gazes at Hannibal in wonder until a blink breaks the spell.</p><p>“Now, you have to warm me up,” Will says, tugging Hannibal toward the house.</p><p>“Only if you do the same for me,” Hannibal replies.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To see the dance that inspired Will and Hannibal's performance at the milonga, check out this video starting at 4:15: </p><p>https://youtu.be/8IVgX7uQz1k</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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